


This Is The Time

by dc_comic_girl



Series: I've Loved These Days [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Craig Tucker and Tweek Tweak in Love, Craig and Those Guys - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Craig Tucker, Sequel, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24693337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dc_comic_girl/pseuds/dc_comic_girl
Summary: With the quarantine over and all his feelings out on the table, Craig just wants to take some time to enjoy being with Tweek. Unfortunately, everyone seems to have come down with a new illness - Senior Year fever.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan & Craig Tucker, Clyde Donovan & Jimmy Valmer, Clyde Donovan & Tweek Tweak, Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Craig Tucker & Jimmy Valmer, Craig Tucker & Tweek Tweak, Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick & Craig Tucker, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Token Black & Clyde Donovan, Token Black & Craig Tucker, Token Black & Jimmy Valmer, Token Black & Tweek Tweak, Token Black/Nichole Daniels, Tweek Tweak & Heidi Turner, Tweek Tweak & Jimmy Valmer
Series: I've Loved These Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785247
Comments: 60
Kudos: 158





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't know about me without you have read a fic by the name of And So It Goes.
> 
> Whaddup guys, this is the sequel to my first ever multichapter story, making this my first ever multichapter sequel! Yeah, I named another story after a Billy Joel song, wanna fight about it? Maybe people will start shipping us and 16 years later we'll become canon 👉🏻👈🏻.
> 
> I still don't own these characters, can you believe it? I was shocked too. 
> 
> Alright, Huck Finn joke, Tweek vs. Craig reference, disclaimer of my lack of rights...on with the show!

Craig pulled his Pinto up tight to the curb and put it in park. He took his phone out of the cupholder and typed a quick “here” to Tweek, before throwing the phone back in the cupholder.

Tricia fiddled with the radio station, sighing audibly. Craig ignored her, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and looking out the windshield, watching Tweek’s front door.

Tricia sighed again, louder, and Craig turned to look at her with an annoyed raised eyebrow.

“We’re gonna be late,” Tricia said, gesturing towards Tweek’s house. “You know how long he takes in the morning.”

“Then you shoulda walked,” Craig replied, returning his gaze to the front door.

Tricia crossed her arms and huffed, leaning back against the seat.

“Since when do you care about promptness, anyway?” Craig asked, checking his phone to see if Tweek had replied.

“It’s my first day of high school,” Tricia answered, giving Craig a scowl like this should be obvious.

“Oh, and you want to lock up your position as the loser who shows up first to class?”

Tricia rolled her eyes, pulling her own cell phone out of the backpack on her lap. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been popular.”

Before Craig could think of a clever comeback, the front door to the house opened, and his heart jumped against his ribs. Tweek walked out, dressed in sneakers, jeans and a blue collared shirt, covered by an olive-green sweater. Two of Tricia’s old sparkly barrettes were battling to hold back his wild mane of blond hair, but they seemed to be losing.

Tweek locked his front door and tugged at it a few times, before starting down the steps, turning back, and tugging at the door again.

“Why does he do that?” Tricia asked, her voice shaking Craig back to reality. Craig grabbed her backpack off her lap and threw it in the backseat. His sister turned to him with an open mouth, looking thoroughly offended.

Craig threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Backseat. Move.”

Tricia flipped her middle finger up at him before opening the passenger door and getting out. She climbed in the backseat next to her backpack and slammed the door behind her. She slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms again.

Tweek finally made it to the car and Craig leaned across the shotgun seat to open the passenger door back up. Tweek climbed in carefully, giving Craig a quick peck on the lips.

“Hi Craig,” Tweek smiled, and turned around in his seat. “Hi Tricia. Y-you look really pretty in that dress.”

Tricia pulled at her dress self-consciously and looked out the window.

“It’s not…too much?” Tricia asked.

“Yes,” Craig answered before Tweek could. Tweek turned his head to glare at the boy.

“No, Tricia, lots of girls wear dresses like that. I think Bebe has one just like that,” Tweek assured, still giving Craig a disapproving look. Craig kept his eyes on the road but smiled.

Good As Hell came on the radio and Tricia leaned forward from the back seat to spin the volume knob, turning it up loud and cutting off any potential for more conversation. Tricia screamed out the words and it wasn’t long before Tweek joined in, significantly more on key. Craig didn’t participate, letting his right hand fall onto Tweek’s lap.

South Park didn’t have a high school. Instead, they shared their secondary education with two other towns in a school that was inconveniently equidistant from all towns. Before Craig bought his Pinto, he and Tweek had had to take the bus with most of the other kids from their elementary school, a certain brand of hell that had Craig start saving up for a car in grade nine.

Last year, before the pandemic, the fifteen minute car ride to and from school each day, when Craig got to be alone with Tweek, was his favourite part of the day, and he was less than thrilled that Tricia would be interloping for his entire senior year.

Tweek turned the radio down as Craig pulled into the school parking lot. He turned around in his seat again to face Tricia.

“D-do you need us to show you where your homeroom is or-”

“Nope,” Tricia answered, waving to Karen McCormick out the back window. She barely waited for Craig to put the car in park before opening up her door, hoping out, and running over to her friend.

Tweek turned to Craig and smiled with a shrug. He turned towards his own door, but Craig grabbed his arm, causing the blond to spin around.

Craig grabbed Tweek’s face and pulled him closer, into a kiss. He could feel Tweek’s initial surprise and subsequent smile. Craig pulled back, pressing his forehead to Tweek’s.

“I missed you,” Craig whispered, even though they were alone in the car.

Tweek snorted out his disbelief. “You saw me yesterday.”

“So?”

It was true. Craig missed Tweek. Like, all the time. During the previous spring, they had been together nearly every minute of every day because they had been quarantined. Then, summer had come, and they had spent most of it together with their friends or alone in one of their bedrooms. Craig had gotten used to falling asleep with Tweek wrapped up in his arms and wasn’t sure how he was expected to just return to status quo now that regular school was starting up again. He wondered if this was what withdrawal felt like.

It all seemed so unfair. He had done the things. He had had the talks with Tweek about feelings – _a lot_. He had jumped through all the boyfriend hoops and he had finally gotten to the good part. The part where he got to kiss Tweek and run his fingers into his hair and take off his shirt…

Craig had just started to reap the rewards from completing all the boyfriend tasks, and just like that, everything had to pause. They had to go back to school and have completely different schedules and reserve all sleepovers for the weekend. It was bullshit.

Whatever. It was one more year. Craig reassured himself that all this stupid fucking waiting and separation would be over just as soon as he and Tweek could graduate and leave this godforsaken town. Just one more year.

Craig pulled Tweek’s face to his again, kissing him hard.

“Craig,” Tweek giggled, pushing him away slightly, but holding his collar so he stayed close. “What if someone sees?”

“Oh no,” Craig grinned. “They might figure out we’re dating.”

Tweek laughed again, this time initiating the kiss himself. Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek’s waist, trying to pull him closer, though the arm rest was in his way. He kissed harder, not wanting to stop. Not wanting to break apart. Not yet.

“Hey! Fags!”

Craig looked up as Eric Cartman slammed his hands down on the hood of Craig’s car, Stan Marsh and Butters Stotch close behind him. “Get a room!” he yelled, smirking at them through the windshield, before turning and walking towards the school.

Craig turned back to Tweek, prepared to tell him to ignore Cartman, but Tweek was red faced, flustered, and already reaching for the door.

Craig sighed, unbuckling his own seatbelt.

One more year.

* * *

Craig leaned against the row of lockers watching Tweek organize his. Tweek meticulously placed mirrors and pictures and bottles of hand sanitizer (“We still haven’t had the second wave, Craig”) into the locker, and Craig couldn’t help but think how beautiful he was, as he checked the position of the sparkly green hairclips in the freshly placed mirror.

“Craig?” Tweek asked, shaking Craig from his thoughts. Tweek gave him an expectant look, and Craig realized he had missed whatever Tweek had been talking about. He wracked his brain trying to will himself to have subconsciously picked up on whatever the fuck Tweek had been talking about.

“Uh…”

Tweek sighed but smiled as he rolled his eyes. “I asked where your locker is. Is it close?”

“Oh, uh…” Craig looked down the hall as if there would be a neon sign hanging over a locker with his name on it.

“D-didn’t you read the email with all the information?” Tweek asked, his face growing deeply concerned. “It has all that stuff. Your locker, your combination, your homeroom-”

“I know my homeroom,” Craig answered, defensively. “And I’ll just keep my stuff in your locker.”

Tweek let out a snort of laughter. “You will not. I don’t want Advanced Space Physics for Nerds cluttering up my locker.”

“Oh, of course, where would you keep the six hundredth bottle of sanitizer,” Craig smirked, reaching out to tickle Tweek’s sides. Tweek batted his hands away but laughed anyway. “Fine, I’ll just carrying them in my backpack.”

Tweek reached for his hair, and Craig caught his hand. “Craig! You’ll do-nnn-serious damage to your back!”

“Then let me keep my shit in your locker.”

As if on cue, a heavy weight landed on Craig’s back, squarely between his shoulder blades, making him stumble forward into Tweek’s open locker door, causing several of Tweek’s pictures to fall.

“Senior year, bitches!” Clyde yelled, wrapping his arm around Craig’s throat and bucking like a cowboy. Craig, regaining his balance, spun on his heel and slammed backwards into the lockers, causing Clyde to let go and slide off.

“Ow! What the fuck, Craig? Stop tryna ruin my senior year,” Clyde pouted, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to Token and pointed an accusatory finger at Craig. “Did you see what he did? Aren’t you gonna punish him?”

Token sighed, reaching down to help Tweek pick up his fallen pictures. “Craig, don’t hurt Clyde. We need him for football.”

“Do you, though?” Craig asked, glaring at Clyde, who glared back.

“Yeah, we do,” Token answered, standing back up and handing the pictures to Tweek. “Four of our starting lineup graduated last year, so we need all the guys we can get.”

“Ohhh my Goood!” Clyde suddenly yelled, seemingly forgetting his head injury. “You guys should try out!”

“F-football?!” Tweek asked, grabbing a chunk of his hair before Craig could stop him. “No, that is waaay too much pressure!”

“Aw, come on Tweek,” Clyde pouted again. “You do musicals and stuff. Isn’t that the moral of Glee? That football and musicals are basically the same thing?”

“Th-that – GAH – that is not at _all_ the moral of Glee!”

Clyde looked to Token for support, but Token shrugged.

“He’s right, that is not the moral of Glee.”

Clyde sighed, defeated, lowering his arms and turned to Craig.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Craig asked, working to pry Tweek’s fingers from his hair.

“Well, are you going to try out for football? Live out the American dream?” Clyde urged, puffing out his chest.

“No,” Craig replied, finally getting Tweek’s hand free and intertwining his fingers with his own.

“Why noooot?” Clyde asked, practically stomping his foot.

“I don’t need to spend any more time with you dickheads than I already do.”

“Token!” Clyde gestured to Craig again, outraged.

Token sighed, turning to Tweek. “What classes you got this semester?”

Tweek’s eye twitched, but he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He had printed out his schedule for the first semester, complete with classes, teachers, and room numbers, and the paper had already been folded, unfolded, and refolded so many times, Craig would be absolutely shocked if it made it through the end of the week.

“I-I got Advanced English, Home Ec, Drama, and a spare.”

“Yoooo, Tweek! We have the same spare!” Clyde raised his hand to high five. Tweek tentatively slapped his hand. “We could hang out and go on adventures!”

Tweek’s eye twitched again, and Craig squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Ac-actually my d-dad says I have to work in the shop last period.”

“Aww, boo! Boo to your dad!” Clyde pouted again, slumping against the locker. “Everyone is against my senior year.”

“Wait, is your Advanced English with Ms. Copper?” Token asked, gently taking Tweek’s timetable to inspect it. “Hey, we have the same homeroom!”

“Ooo, look at these two with their Advanced English,” Clyde said, sticking out his tongue. “Thinking they’re better than us.”

“They are better than you,” Craig responded, as the warning bell rang.

“Token, Tweek: have terrific days. Craig: eat shit,” Clyde offered, before walking away down the hall. Craig shot a raised middle finger after him.

“Walk with me to class, Tweek?” Token asked, pointing over his shoulder. “Craig, we’ll see you at lunch.”

Tweek leaned up on his toes and kissed the corner of Craig’s mouth. Craig released his hand reluctantly.

“Have a good last first morning,” Tweek whispered, before chasing after Token down the hall.

* * *

Craig walked into the Physics lab just as the second bell rang. The classroom was still abuzz – students gathered in groups, asking how everyone had spent their summers, remarking on how long it had been since they were all together. Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

He walked to the back of the room and threw his backpack on one of two stools behind the farthest lab bench, before throwing himself onto the other one. He crossed his arms on the bench in front of him and buried his head within their hallow. He just wanted this day to end. No, this _week_. He wanted it to be Friday in Token’s basement, curled up on the loveseat with Tweek, wrapped under a blanket, his face buried in Tweek’s hair. He wanted to wake him up gently at 4 am and drive them back to his place to finish their sleepover. He wanted to wake up with Tweek next to him, their legs tangled, and stay in bed all day, talking about graduation and moving and the rest of their lives.

“C-craig?”

Craig’s head shot up. Heidi Turner was standing next to his bench, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh…hi, Heidi,” Craig offered, matching her discomfort.

“Can I…uh…” Heidi pointed at the seat next to Craig. “There’s just, uh…there’s no other…”

“O-oh! Oh, yeah sure,” Craig nodded, taking his bag off the seat and throwing it on the ground. Heidi sat down beside him gingerly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Heidi. He did. Or, at least he didn’t dislike her. She’d never done anything to him or Tweek to give him a reason to dislike her, and she seemed to make Tweek happy, but she wasn’t really _Craig’s_ friend. Plus, Tweek insisted she was “fragile” (though Craig could distinctly remember watching her beat the shit out of Cartman), which meant Tweek expected him to watch what he said around Heidi to avoid upsetting her. Craig wasn’t a huge fan of the censorship and it made being around Heidi difficult to navigate.

Still, he didn’t dislike her, and looking around the room Craig could certainly pick out more than a couple classmates he _did_ dislike, so he figured this was as good a lab partner match as any.

“Are you…um…are you excited for…Physics?” Heidi asked, lamely.

Craig turned to look at her. He had to physically fight the urge to tell her what a stupid fucking question that was.

“…yeah.”

“Cool, yeah…uh…me too…” Heidi pulled at her shirt and moved her eyes away from Craig and around the room.

A short man in a white lab coat, a plaid shirt, and a bowtie walked in, setting his briefcase down next to the desk, before turning to the class.

“’Morning class,” Dr. McAlister said, running a hand through his white hair. “I see a lot of familiar faces here from grade eleven physics, but to those of you I haven’t met before: you’re in the wrong class.”

The class let out a murmur of laughter at the bad joke. Heidi and Craig sat in silence, Heidi nervously picking at her cuticle and Craig staring up at the clock, willing it to speed up.

“Well, I hate to let you all down, but unfortunately we won’t be doing any physics today. I know, yes – ‘awwww’. Unfortunately, all grade twelve homeroom classrooms have been asked to attend a very important assembly in the gym first period this morning, so please, sign the attendance sheet at the front and then head down.”

Craig slid off his stool, and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his back. He turned back to Heidi, figuring Tweek would probably disapprove of leaving her behind, and willed her to move faster as she packed up her pencil case. If they got there quickly, he might be able to find Tweek in the crowd, but the longer they took here, the more likely it was that he would be left sitting next to Stan Marsh.

“Ready?” Craig asked, barely hiding his impatience.

“O-oh, yeah,” Heidi stuttered, a blush creeping onto her face. “S-sorry…sometimes I’m slow…”

She grabbed the rest of her pens and pencils in a fistful and threw them into her bag haphazardly, zipping up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Ready,” she smiled, and Craig turned and led their way to the attendance sheet at the front of the room.

When they finally made it to the gymnasium, Craig’s heart sunk, seeing it mostly full. Fortunately, within the throngs of upper classmen sitting on the bleachers, he could see a waving hand. His eyes scanned under the hand to see a smiling Tweek sitting in between Token and his backpack, clearly saving a place for Craig. Craig nudged Heidi’s shoulder and pointed towards the waving Tweek.

“Oh…uh, I don’t know if there’s room,” she said.

“It’s cool, we’ll squish,” Craig assured, pleased with the excuse to be nearer to Tweek. He gave Heidi’s arm a firm tug towards the bleachers.

Once they got to the fifth level and crawled across a couple student, Tweek lifted the backpack into his lap and patted the seat next to him. Craig sat as close as he could to Tweek without actually being in his lap, wrapping his arm around the smaller boy’s shoulder, and gave him a kiss on the temple. Craig felt a little foolish for wishing first period would end so quickly.

“Hi Craig, hi Heidi,” Tweek smiled, leaning across Craig to make eye contact with Heidi.

“Hi Tweek,” Heidi replied. Her voice was still shy, but she seemed substantially more calm than she had been in the classroom.

“What’s this shit for?” Craig asked, leaning behind Tweek to address Token. Token shrugged back.

Loud static filled the gym as Strong Woman tapped the microphone, standing on the raised platform in the middle of the basketball court.

Strong Woman had served as vice principal at South Park Elementary for two years before being promoted to principal and moved to a different elementary school. By their grade ten year, she had been moved to Park County High. Craig had spent more than a few afternoons waiting outside her office, preparing for a scolding about truancy or swearing or some other bullshit. She was a pain in the ass, but, by Craig’s estimation, was still better than PC Principal.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and students to whom those distinctions do not apply, I want to welcome you back to Park County. You were missed last spring, but I am pleased you were able to stay safe during the national pandemic. This will, for most of you, be your last year at Park County and I want to encourage all of you to truly enjoy yourselves over the next couple of months. On that note, I would like to hand this assembly over to your class president, Wendy Testaburger.”

As Wendy stood up from her chair on the podium and walked over to the microphone, most of the bleachers gave hearty applause. Craig did not contribute.

“Good morning, fellow students. It’s really good to see all of you again. In person, that is.”

A few people on the bleachers laughed weakly. Craig rolled his eyes.

“As most of you probably know, many schools around the country are not reopening this September, and we are very lucky to be among the few who are. I urge you all to take advantage of the remainder of your time here at Park County. Enjoy your friends, get involved. The student council and I have planned a lot of fun activities for this school year, and I hope to see you all at every one of them. I know I speak for the entire council when I say: let’s make this year the best one yet!”

Crowd momentum forced the gym to erupt in a huge round of cheers and applause. Tweek started to clap loudly, jostling Craig’s arm still wrapped around his shoulder. Craig caught sight of Kenny McCormick, sitting in the third row next to Stan Marsh, put the thumb and index finger of his right hand into his mouth and whistle loudly.

“That’s it?” Craig asked Token, leaning back behind Tweek again. “That’s why we were called out of class? So Madam President could give us a get involved speech?”

Token shrugged again, offering a smile. “Better than class, I guess.”

The “Class of ’21 Pep Rally” took up the remainder of first period, inciting “teamwork-building” games where each homeroom selected a volunteer who would run down to the raised platform, participate in a potato sack race or a round of Just Dance or some other equally embarrassing competition, and then run back up the bleachers, shamed.

Stan Marsh got up at one point to take the microphone from his girlfriend and deliver a heart wrenching speech about getting involved and lifelong friendships and blah, blah, blah to try and convince some upperclassmen to try out for the football team. Thematically, his speech followed so closely to Wendy’s, Craig was all but convinced she had written it for him.

The assembly was so mind-numbingly dull, Craig was almost happy when the warning bell rang, and it was time for him to head to Advanced Functions. He was disinclined to let go of Tweek again but comforted himself with the knowledge that they would both have lunch in just 75 minutes.

Before their departure, Heidi informed Craig that she had Advanced Functions fourth period. Craig had forced a disappointed “oh” but was all too pleased when he got to the classroom and was able to find a desk alone at the back of the room. Math was already his least favourite class, and it would be nice to not have Miss STEM sitting beside him to compare all their test results.

Any relief was short lived, however, as a tardy Kyle Broflovski was all too keen to take the empty seat next to Craig’s, after making a point to explain to the teacher (as loudly as possible) that the only reason he was late was because cleaning up after the assembly fell under the umbrella of Class Vice President duties.

_Fuck this whole entire school._

Advanced Functions kept them busy. The teacher explained that because anyone who had taken Functions in the second semester of the previous year had missed so much of the syllabus during the quarantine, they would need to do significant review before diving into any new material.

They had a “check-up” quiz, which was not for marks and was just to give an idea of where they were knowledge wise. Craig, having had Functions first semester of the previous year, felt pretty confident about it. From the look on Kyle’s face, he did not.

The bell rang and Craig threw his textbook in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. His back gave a retaliatory spasm, and Craig accepted that he would have to read that damn email tonight and figure out where his fucking locker was.

“So,” Kyle asked, in a conversational tone. Craig walked away quickly, but Kyle jogged to keep up with him. “What did you think of the assembly?”

“Fine, I guess,” Craig responded, trying to indicate with his tone that he was not interested in conversation. He wanted to get to the cafeteria. He wanted to get to Tweek.

“Yeah, I mean, I just thought it would be a good idea to rally everyone. You know, after the year we had, I felt like everyone needed some kind of…motivation or something, right?”

Ah, so it had been _Kyle_ who wrote Stan’s speech. Of course.

“Did that come across? The school spirit, I mean. Like, did you all get the vibe that it was about making the most of our time here and really enjoying being a part of the school community?” Kyle asked, willfully ignoring Craig’s hints as they walked into the caf.

Craig caught sight of a mess of blond hair sitting across the room, and his heart sped up.

“Yeah, Broflovski, it was great. Totally worked. I’m actually gonna go get the school crest tattooed on my forehead right now. See ya.”

Craig took a sharp turn, leaving Kyle standing by the food line, and walked over to the table Tweek was sitting at with Token, Clyde, and Jimmy. He came up behind the boy, and kissed the top of his head, causing the blond to let out a small shriek. It made Craig’s heart beat even faster.

He climbed over the bench to sit in between Tweek and Jimmy, giving a nod across the table to Token and Clyde. Craig could see Tweek let out a relaxed breath, and then give a smile. He pulled a brown bag out of his backpack, identical to the one he was eating from, and handed it to Craig. Craig suspected it was something the boy had made in Home Ec. Craig took the bag from Tweek, matching his smile.

“Awwww,” Clyde cooed, his mouth full. He swallowed the food before continuing. “Tweek, you made Craig lunch? That’s so sweet! I want lunch!”

“Yo-you’re eating lunch though,” Tweek responded, and Craig could tell he was panicked that Clyde was serious.

“Yeah, but I want a homemade Tweek lunch, made with love.”

“Wu-wu-well you’re not fu-fu-fuuuhhh-…sleeping with him,” Jimmy added, and laughed when Craig elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well, he hasn’t asked,” Clyde pouted, popping a fry into his mouth.

Tweek continued to turn a darker shade of red and Token mercifully cleared his throat, changing the subject.

“Feels like you’ve been moving late all day,” Token said, nodding his head at Craig as Craig unwrapped the sandwich Tweek had made him.

“People keep talking to me,” Craig shrugged, taking a bite.

“Why?” Token asked, crinkling his nose.

“’m popuar,” Craig answered, his mouth full.

Token snorted, taking a sip of his vitamin water.

“Well, you got to move faster than that for football,” Clyde warned, waving a fry in Craig’s direction.

“You’re puh-playing fuh-fuh-football?” Jimmy asked.

Craig swallowed his mouthful of sandwich and glared at Clyde.

“No.”

“Whyyy?” Clyde asked, drawing out his words in a whine. “You _used to_ play football!”

“When? When we were in grade six? Oh yeah, it’s my passion.”

“Aw, come on! You heard the Wendy and Stan dream team – this is our last chance to all hang out!” Clyde persisted, clasping his hands in a pleading gesture.

“We hang out all the time. Too much, some might say,” Craig countered, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Who would say that?” Clyde asked, holding a hand to his heart.

“Me.”

“Just think about it,” Token said, finality in his voice. “Tryouts are tomorrow after school.”

“See, why would I want to be here more than I already am?”

“Just think about it,” Token implored.

The conversation changed directions as lunch marched on. Jimmy and Tweek spoke excitedly about their Drama class next period and Clyde confided that perhaps he had been too ambitious to register for Advanced French with Bebe, given that he had never taken a single French class before.

Craig spent the majority of the lunch period staring at the side of Tweek’s head and daydreaming about the weekend. There was supposed to be a clear sky Saturday night and he wondered if he would be able to convince Tweek to go camping and see the stars.

“Hey,” he whispered into Tweek’s ear, as Clyde and Token tried to convince Jimmy (with much more success than with Craig) to volunteer to do colour commentary for the football games. “Want to stop at McDonald’s on our way home from school?”

“Nnn-I can’t, remember?” Tweek pulled back, looking both surprised and guilty. “I have to help in the shop this afternoon.”

“Oh…yeah,” Craig replied, remembering. “Well, I’ll skip fourth and drive you.”

“Gah! Cr-Craig, you can’t skip the first day. I’m gonna bus down,” Tweek assured, giving Craig’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Craig looked down at his plate dejected.

“Is this gonna be, like, an everyday thing with your dad?” he asked. “Like do you have to leave early every day?”

Tweek didn’t answer, instead giving Craig a sympathetic smile.

Craig sighed.

One more fucking year.

* * *

Functions could suck his dick.

Fuck sinusoidal functions and fuck coronavirus for making him have to learn about them **twice**.

Craig sat in his bedroom, long since dark, doing his best to finish all the review sheets he had been assigned that morning. Whatever false confidence he had built up during the stupid “check-up” quiz had evaporated as soon as he had to plot anything more difficult than a quadratic function.

He slammed the textbook closed and tossed it to the end of his bed, flipping off the offending literature for good measure. He pulled his cell off his bedside table and checked the time. It was nearly 10 o’clock. He opened his most recent conversation.

 **⭐️Craig⭐️:** come over?

 **Tweek ❤️:** still working 😣

Craig sighed, locking his phone screen again and running his fingers across his temples, trying to sooth his headache. What a shitty day. First he’d had to go to that stupid, self-righteous assembly; then, in math, he’d been given homework **and** a test on the first day; after lunch, he had learned he would be sharing English class with Eric Cartman sitting next to him; and finally, and most importantly, he had barely even seen his boyfriend all day – hadn’t seen him **at all** since lunch.

Fuck it. He deserved a break.

Craig grabbed his phone, untangling himself from his seated position on his bed, and grabbed his jacket, patting the pocket to check for keys.

He walked down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. Craig had never really given a second thought to sneaking out for most of his life, but during the summer, Thomas had renovated the basement into a more suitable bedroom for Grandma Ruby, and that woman had ears like a fucking basset hound.

Craig locked the door behind him, and made his way to the car, moving with a bit less stealth now that he was, surely, a suitable distance from his grandmother’s hearing range.

Craig drove as quickly as he dared, knowing Barbrady was likely out on the beat.

He pulled into the deserted parking lot of Tweek Bros. and put his car in park. No one in town ever bought coffee later than 2 pm, so Craig could not figure out, for the life of him, why the hell the store had to be open until 10 every night.

He climbed out, shoving his fists into his jacket, and walked through the brisk fall air to the door.

As soon as the bell on top of the door rang, Tweek looked up from wiping down tables with a start. His face broke into a wide smile when he saw Craig.

Tweek dropped his rag on a table and ran over, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. Craig smiled, kissing him, the force of his shitty day behind it.

“Where are your parents?” Craig asked, when the boys finally broke apart.

“O-oh, they went home a few hours ago,” Tweek responded, not taking his arms away from Craig’s neck.

Craig frowned. Tweek didn’t like to be alone in the coffee shop, and frankly Craig wasn’t crazy about Tweek being alone, either.

“Want a h-hot chocolate or something?” Tweek asked, finally stepping back from Craig, and picking his rag back up.

“Nah, I just came to drive you home.”

Tweek smiled. “Could you check if all the machines are turned off? I just…can’t…”

Craig nodded, ducking down behind the counter and checking the off lights for all the coffee machines.

Tweek finished washing the table he was working on and took the rag to the back room. He walked back out into the shop, pulling his apron off over his head.

“How’s the homework?” Tweek asked, handing the keys to Craig, so Craig could lock the shop up and Tweek wouldn’t have to check it.

“All done,” Craig lied, so Tweek wouldn’t worry.

Craig took a purposely convoluted route from the coffee shop to Tweek’s house. Tweek didn’t interject. They drove in relative silence, Tweek playing Billy Joel off Craig’s Pandora, Craig holding his hand on Tweek’s knee, tapping out the beat with his finger.

Craig pulled up to the curb outside Tweek’s house for the second time that day. Tweek fiddled with his seatbelt, clearly reluctant to get out.

“So…you gotta do this every day?” Craig asked, trying to hide the disappointed edge to his voice.

“W-well, they said I don’t have to when I have stuff after school…but the play isn’t until the winter though…”

Craig turned to look at Tweek, dreading the next four months. Why did life have to be so goddamn unfair all the time?

“Bu-but I was thinking…” Tweek started, his eye twitching nervously. He reached up to grab his hair, but Craig caught his hand.

“I-I was thinking…if you had football, they’d probably let me st-stay for those practices…”

Tweek averted his eyes, shyly. Craig rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Aww, come on man, you too? How is _me_ playing football gonna let _you_ stay after school?”

“Well, I was just thinking…’cause, you know how they are with you, and…I-I mean…they like when I’m with you. Bu-but I know you don’t want to so…”

Tweek looked thoroughly uncomfortable now and finally managed to unbuckle his seatbelt. Craig caught his arm, fighting an inner tug of war.

If he joined the football team, it meant he had to spend even more time at school. But, if he joined the football team, at least part of that time would be with Tweek. But, if he joined the football team, he’d have to have Stan Marsh as a captain. But, if he joined the football team, he could probably throw a ball at Stan Marsh’s head and have a somewhat legitimate excuse. But, if he joined the football team, he would have to hear those gay speeches about teamwork and friendship and school spirt every day. But, if he joined the football team, Tweek wouldn’t have to work like a fucking dog from 2 pm to 10 pm every night.

Craig sighed, ducking his head so he was in Tweek’s vision.

“You really think they’d let you stay for my practices?”

Tweek’s face lit up and he nodded emphatically, before catching himself.

“Bu-but, you don’t have to…you don’t have to do that for me. I know you don’t want to, and so it’s totally-”

Craig cupped Tweek’s cheek, kissing him softly.

“I’d do a lot more than join some stupid team for you,” he smiled, pulling back.

Tweek’s eyes were heavily lidded when he looked back up at Craig. He smiled flirtatiously.

“Well…plus I think you’d probably look really cute in one of those leather sport jackets.”

Craig snorted, pecking Tweek’s lips again. “Out of the two of us, I’m not the cute one.” His eyes flashed to Tweek’s living room window, where he could see two faces peering out at them. Craig resisted the urge to sigh.

“You better go. The peanut gallery has arrived.”

Tweek looked over his shoulder and then turned back to Craig with an apologetic look. He pressed one last kiss to Craig’s lips before climbing out of the car.

Tweek turned back around and leaned into Craig’s passenger window.

“I-I wanna do what Wendy said today. I want to make this a really good year,” Tweek said. His voice was nervous, but also had a sense of determination to it. “Our last year in South Park.”

Craig watched Tweek walk up the path to his house and waited until he was safely inside before putting his car in drive.

One more year.


	2. Day 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Football practice and fast food dates - Craig gets in touch with his inner all American boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I don't have the energy to say anything witty so I shall simply say: Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and I don't own anything, cause of like, "laws" 🙄

**_Stan Marsh added Luke Covina to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Eric Cartman to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added David Rodriguez to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Fosse McDonald to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Bill Allen to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Eddie Ruiz to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Token Black to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Kevin Stoley to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Mike Cooper to the group_ **

**Eddie:** yo

**_Stan Marsh added Connor Lewis to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Clyde Donovan to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Tommy Turner to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Nate Coleman to the group_ **

**Clyde:** WHAT UP FOOTBALL GC

**_Stan Marsh added Miguel Navarro to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Chris Donnely to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Josh Brown to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Danny Ray Johnson to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Mark Cotswolds to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Francis Mitchell to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Douglas Sanders to the group_ **

**Tommy:** rip my phone notifications lol

**_Stan Marsh added Adam Borque to the group_ **

**Eddie:** fuck off tommy at least someone is texting you

**_Stan Marsh added Pete Melman to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Bobby Sullivan to the group_ **

**Miguel: 😂🤣**

**_Stan Marsh added Jose Mendoza to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Daniel Tanner to the group_ **

**Tommy:** fuck you Ruiz

**_Stan Marsh added Matt O’Ryan to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Kenny McCormick to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Craig Tucker to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh added Butters Stotch to the group_ **

**_Stan Marsh changed the name of the group to_ Park County Bighorns**

**Bobby:** wtf butters made the team?

 **Bobby:** how??? 😂

 **Kenny:** choke on a dick sullivan

 **Bill:** gay

 **Stan:** hi boys welcome back

 **Fosse:** 😂

 **Butters:** Hi, fellas!

 **Stan:** I started a new group chat since we’ve lost some men since last year and we have new teammates

 **Stan:** hi butters

 **Stan:** so I want to welcome our new wide receivers @Kenny McCormick and @Craig Tucker and our new kicker @Butters Stotch

 **Kenny:** ✌🏻

**_Craig Tucker left the group_ **

**Stan:** seriously?

 **Butters:** Thanks for having me @Everyone! I’m really looking forward to the season!

 **Eric:** fuck off butters

**_Stan Marsh added Craig Tucker to the group_ **

**Stan:** so to those of you who are new we post practice and game schedules in this chat so you can always just check here

 **Stan:** looking forward to this year boys! let’s make it count!

 **Chris:** crazy how you can barely see wendy’s mouth move when she makes stan talk

 **Kenny:** LMFAO crazy how you can tell donnelys never been laid

 **Chris:** go fuck yourself mccormick

 **Kenny:** was going to but then your gf offered so 🤷🏼‍♂️

 **Clyde:** I FUCKING LOVE FOOTBALL GC

 **Clyde:** WELCOME BACK EVERYBODY!!

* * *

However bad Craig thought being on Stan Marsh’s football team would be, the reality was a hundred times worse.

It had never occurred to Craig to be nervous about making the team – Clyde and Stan had both demonstrated so much desperation in recruiting for the team, Craig had been pretty sure they would take just about anyone (actualized when Butters Stotch made the cut). Because of that, it had not shocked Craig at all when the tryouts were dead easy. What had come as a surprise, was how decidedly un-easy the subsequent practices had been.

Monday through Thursday, there was practice. Rain or shine, there was practice. On the third day, when Butters keeled over and vomited on Craig’s cleats after running one too many line sprints, there was still fucking practice.

There was only one positive to come out of Craig’s sudden re-entry into the world of organized sports, but luckily it outweighed each of the cons.

Tweek had been right. His father had cancelled his evening shifts at the coffeeshop to allow for Tweek’s attendance at Craig’s practices. Sure, Richard had suddenly become a very big supporter of high school football – naming a new drink after the team, writing Craig’s number in the window, and telling all patrons about his son’s boyfriend the “football star” – but Craig knew it was worth the embarrassment for the few extra hours a day he got with Tweek.

Craig looked to the clock on the wall. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to move more quickly or less. His body was still pretty sore from yesterday’s mat drills, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to subject his body to another round of torture. On the other hand, American History had to be the most mind-numbingly boring class in the entire fucking-

“Mr. Tucker.”

Craig’s eyes shot back to the front of the classroom, where his teacher stood with folded arms, glaring at him.

“What?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

She flared her nostrils, at his obvious attitude.

“Would you mind answering the questions?”

More eyes turned to look at him, but Craig was more annoyed than embarrassed.

“I wasn’t listening to your question. And I probably wouldn’t know the answer, anyway, ‘cause I wasn’t really listening to the lesson either.”

Kenny McCormick let out a snort from the other side of the room, and Mrs. Walsh’s nostrils flared. She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but the bell rang.

Craig figured it was probably for the best. Had she pressed the topic further he was liable to flip her off, and then he’d be sent to the office. If he was sent to the office, he’d get detention. Then, not only would Tweek probably have a panic attack thinking Craig had been abducted by aliens or some shit, but if he received detention when he was supposed to be at practice, Craig would be forced to listen to a condescending speech about responsibility from the quarterback.

Craig grabbed his bag and walked out the door as quickly as his legs would take him. He made a beeline for Tweek’s locker, but was intercepted by, none other than, Stan Marsh.

From his lips to Satan’s fucking ears.

“Craig,” Stan said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Craig thought he looked strikingly like Mrs. Walsh when she got mad. “I need your forty bucks.”

Craig side stepped around Stan, giving no indication he had heard the boy speak.

“Craig!” Stan called, trailing behind him at a brisk, angry pace.

Craig made it to Tweek’s open locker, the owner of which poked his head out at hearing Craig’s name called across the hall. Craig grinned and gave him a peck on the lips, still ignoring Stan.

“Craig, I’ve been texting you for the last week, and I’ve tried to be really patient, but those jackets are on my credit card, so I need the money.”

“Wh-what’s going on?” Tweek asked, closing his locker door and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“If you ignore him, he’ll go away,” Craig assured, stepping in between Stan and Tweek, with his back towards his captain. “How was your day?”

“Holy shit dude,” Stan muttered, and Craig could tell, without even looking at him, that he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Marsh, I’m on your stupid team, what more do you want from me?” Craig asked, spinning around.

“Forty bucks!” Stan yelled, losing his patience. “Like I said, in my hundred and one messages.”

“I-I have forty bucks,” Tweek offered, reaching in his pocket. Craig held up a hand to him, trying to silently tell him not to worry.

“What am I even paying for? _You_ need _me_ , remember?”

Stan sighed, and put on his best diplomatic voice. “It’s for the team jackets. You know, the ones I already bought and had to pay for out of pocket?”

“Stan, I don’t give a shit about a jacket. We live in Colorado. You think I don’t have a jacket?”

“Craig, remember when we talked about being a ‘team player’?” Stan asked in his most patronizing voice. Oh good, the condescending speech was coming anyway. “Everyone is paying the money so everyone can wear the jackets.”

“Oh yeah? So how did McCormick give you the forty bucks? Cash or cheque?”

Stan’s eyes turned hard. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Tweek shoved two twenties at his face. Stan blinked, his rage fleetingly replaced by surprise, then grabbed the money and shoved it in his pocket.

“Practice in fifteen,” Stan said, coldly, bumping his shoulder against Craig as he walked past him down the hall. “Don’t be late.”

Craig worked to push his bubbling anger down, turning to Tweek.

“Why did you do that?”

Tweek blushed and looked nervous. “I-I thought you wuh-were gonna hit him.”

Craig’s anger evaporated and he was suddenly filled with the urge to wrap his arms around the smaller boy. He sighed and put his arm around Tweek’s shoulder, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head, as he turned to walk towards the changing room.

“He’da deserved it.”

* * *

Craig wasn’t sure exactly how much power a quarterback had over the team, though he was confident it was not as much as Stan Marsh seemed to think. All the same, practice did seem particularly harder today and he couldn’t help but notice the captain smiling at him smugly as he ran his extra sprints for being late.

After sprints had been passing drills; a mini scrimmage; and, unbelievably, even more conditioning. There was no clock on the field, so Craig really had no way to tell, but when the coach called them in to huddle up for a round of Man in the Middle, Craig knew it must be nearly 5.

Man in the Middle seemed to be Coach Hardy’s favourite way to finish a practice. The general idea was that all the boys would stand in a circle, with one player in the middle. The player in the middle would throw the ball to one of his teammates in the circle, and that player would attempt to rush and tackle the centre man. Whoever was left standing won and was allowed to leave the circle and hit the showers. The other player then stood in the circle and the cycle would continue until no players were left in the circle. Then the remaining player had to (usually after taking quite a few tackles) run the length of the field before finishing practice.

Craig didn’t really find the game as daunting as he was probably meant to. There was always the choice to throw the ball to Butters, an option someone had usually exercised by about the six or seventh round, at which point it became less of a competition and more of an opportunity for the entire senior football team to beat the shit out of Butters.

What Craig was really hoping for, though, was the opportunity to beat the shit out of Stan Marsh.

Because of this dream, when Coach Hardy asked who volunteered to be in the middle, Craig shot his hand up, already picturing throwing the ball at Stan’s smug face. Unfortunately, Kenny McCormick was just a little faster.

Craig sighed, lining up around Kenny like they were playing Duck, Duck, Goose, and prayed that Stan wouldn’t get picked before Craig could end up in the middle.

Kenny made an exaggerated thinking face, even tapping his chin, before finally spiraling the ball towards Butters. Butters caught the ball, nearly fumbling it. Craig could see him take a shaky breath before tucking the ball under his arm. He put his head down and barrelled right at Kenny.

From Craig’s vantage point, Butters had barely made contact before Kenny fell to the ground with an exaggerated “oof”.

Butters stood over Kenny, and Craig wondered if he may fall down anyway, out of pure shock.

“Aw nuts,” Kenny sighed, snapping his fingers. “Guess you’re out, Leo.”

Butters looked up at Hardy, his eyes wide with shock at the foreign situation. Craig rolled his eyes. Hardy did too.

“Hit the showers, Stotch. On your feet, McCormick.”

Butters shakily reached down his hand to Kenny, who took it and pulled himself up. Butters gave a smile again, still standing in the middle of the circle. Hardy blew his whistle, which made Butters jump. Kenny gave a nod of his head towards the showers and Butters ran off.

Kenny picked up the ball and did the same exaggerated thinking pantomime, only to receive a warning “McCormick…” from Hardy.

Kenny tossed the ball to Stan who caught it easily, put it under his arm and charged. The two boys locked, and pushed against one another for a few seconds, before Kenny was able to flip Stan down to the ground. Stan let out a not-at-all exaggerated “oof” as the air was knocked out of him, and it made Craig smile.

Kenny helped Stan up before walking off towards the changing rooms.

Stan picked up the ball and his eyes flashed around the circle. When they met Craig’s, Craig could tell Stan reciprocated the aggression that had been building in him all practice.

Stan threw the ball like the well seasoned pro he was. Craig caught it as gracefully as he could, before throwing it to the ground. He charged at Stan, forgetting all about the game.

The two boys locked on the field in the circle of their teammates, pushing against one another. Craig felt his cleats slide against the grass, as the force pushed him back. He could hear Dr. McAllister’s voice in his head.

_“If one body exerts a force on another body, the second body will exert another force, equal in magnitude and opposite in direction, on the first body. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”_

Craig pushed harder. He was _not_ equal to Stan Marsh. He was greater.

It felt that they had been locked for several minutes before Craig suddenly saw a flash of panic in Stan’s eyes before he buckled and fell to the ground.

Craig struggled to catch his breath, standing over Stan.

“Twice in one practice, Marsh?” he asked, trying to smirk, but fearing his sweaty brow and heaving chest betrayed his cool demeanor.

Stan glared, but took Craig’s hand when he offered.

“Showers, Tucker,” Hardy yelled, blowing on his whistle again.

Craig walked away from the circle, pride swelling his chest. He walked towards the bleachers on the sidelines and saw Tweek leaning over the railing. Since Craig’s practices had started Tweek had developed a habit of sitting up on the bleachers, usually accompanied by Heidi, and doing his homework and listening to music. Craig loved coming off the field to find his boyfriend waiting for him.

“Are you okay?” Tweek asked, anxiously, when Craig was close enough. Craig reached up and put his hand on the back of Tweek’s neck, dragging him down to lean over and kiss him.

“Sure,” Craig grinned, releasing him, and smiling at Tweek’s dazed look.

“That was really impressive, Craig,” Heidi offered, shyly.

“That’s me. Impressive,” Craig nodded, still looking at Tweek.

“Go shower,” Tweek urged, pushing Craig away from the railing and standing upright. “You’re all sweaty.”

Craig grinned again but walked towards the changing room.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he could hear Butters asking, as he rounded the corner. “I mean, you’re not hurt?”

Butters was already redressed and sitting cross legged on the changing room bench. Kenny was wrapped in a towel, his hair damp and matted to his head.

“Just my pride, Leo,” Kenny sighed, before turning to see Craig and letting out a loud laugh.

“Tucker, did you beat Stan? That’s hilarious!”

Craig rolled his eyes and shot his middle finger at the two boys, taking off his padding and grabbing his towel from his locker.

By the time Craig was finished in the shower, Stan was in the changing room, handing out jackets to some of the other teammates filtering in. Butters was already wearing his.

Stan walked over and threw the jacket at Craig without a word. He didn’t look angry anymore, too consumed with his almighty team quarterback duties.

Craig held the jacket up, looking at it distastefully. There was a large stylized and intertwined “P”, “C”, and “B” symbol over the breast, and “Tucker” on the sleeve. The idea of wearing it on game days and matching Eric Cartman and Stan Marsh made Craig’s stomach turn.

“Alright boys, one more practice tomorrow and then Friday is our first scrimmage, so rest up,” Stan yelled, still handing out jackets. Craig rolled his eyes, throwing his jacket over his backpack and grabbing his clothes out of his locker.

* * *

It didn’t matter how much football sucked. It didn’t matter how much _Stan Marsh_ sucked. It was all worth it. _So_ fucking worth it.

Craig squeezed Tweek’s knee, pulling into the McDonald’s parking lot.

Richard Tweak, having never actually played any sports, had no idea how long a football practice ran. Most nights, after showering, Craig and Tweek would drive around for hours until they got hungry, get takeout and then drive around some more.

Craig knew tomorrow morning he would wake up and hate football and dread practice.

But it was worth it.

“What do you want?” he asked Tweek, as the car in front of them pulled through the drive through.

“A milkshake!”

“Babe, it’s September. You’ll get cold.”

“Sorry, ‘mom’,” Tweek laughed, sticking out his tongue.

Craig ordered chicken nuggets, a Big Mac, a large fries, a quarter pounder for Tweek, and a milkshake. He looked over to see Tweek’s raised eyebrow.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Nuggets _and_ a Big Mac?” Tweek asked.

“What? I’m hungry! I’m a football player!”

Tweek “tsk”ed but smiled.

They drove up to Stark’s Pond and parked. Craig grabbed the bags of food and hopped out of the car. Tweek grabbed his milkshake and followed. They climbed on the hood of the Pinto and leaned against the windshield, watching the sunset, Tweek’s head resting against Craig’s shoulder.

Craig pulled his burger out of the bag and started eating. He hadn’t been lying. Since joining the team, he was hungry all the time. Tweek had started putting extra snacks in his lunch just to tide him over. He was beginning to feel like a hobbit by the sheer number of meals he ate a day.

Tweek fiddled with Craig’s phone, trying to find a song he liked. Suddenly he looked up with a grin as Uptown Girl started to blare. Tweek sung along, shaking Craig’s shoulder, as if trying to get him to dance.

“Ah, Uptown Girl. True Billy Joel poetry,” Craig laughed, eating a fry.

“All Billy Joel is great, you’re just a snob,” Tweek answered haughtily, turning the song up louder.

“Yeah? And what deep, transcendent life moment is he capturing with this gem?” Craig asked, watching Tweek with a smile.

“It’s the song you sing when you, you know, fall in love with an uptown girl…” Tweek suggested, laughing.

“Mmm, can’t relate.” Craig reached for Tweek’s milkshake but was batted away.

“Um, excuse me, weren’t you anti team milkshake?” Tweek asked, holding the milkshake away from his body and out of Craig’s reach.

“Pfft, I bought it.”

“Pretty sure you have enough food there, champ,” Tweek laughed again, throwing a fry at Craig.

“I am bulking up for football!” Craig cried out, unable to hide his own smile. He leaned over, breathing near Tweek’s ear.

“You know, some people find football players hot,” he whispered, his bottom lip grazing Tweek’s ear lobe.

Craig felt Tweek shiver next to him. He pulled back to see Tweek’s face a bright pink.

“You all right, honey?” Craig asked, feigning concern.

“I’m cold from the milkshake,” Tweek answered, defensively, crossing his arms over his body.

“Oh, right, who could have predicted?”

Craig slid off the hood and walked over to his back seat. He reached in and pulled out his gym bag, yanking out the leather jacket he had stuffed inside.

He walked back to the front of the car, and threw the jacket to Tweek, who slid it on gratefully.

Craig climbed back on the hood and turned to look at his boyfriend. The jacket was far too big for him, engulfing his torso and swallowing up his arms. Tweek buried his neck down, into the jacket, either to find warmth or hide his blush, Craig wasn’t sure. For some reason, seeing “Tucker” on Tweek’s arm made the entire garment less offensive.

“Besides,” Tweek interrupted Craig’s train of thought, “you were hot before football.”

Craig felt his own cheeks darken.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his body more towards Tweek’s.

Tweek wouldn’t meet his eyeline, and Craig could tell he was shaking even more now.

“Sure, go ahead and poll the sophomore girls.”

Craig slid his hand behind Tweek’s back and up under the jacket.

“What would they say?” Craig asked, once again leaning in to whisper in Tweek’s ear.

“W-well…uh…I don’t know…you’re tall…and st-strong…I mean, you took down Stan Marsh today…”

“I sure did,” Craig smiled, pressing his mouth to Tweek’s neck. Tweek let out a small gasp and Craig felt his pants tighten.

“A-and…I mean…you’re handsome…and…you have good hair…”

“Yeah?” Craig asked, his head still buried in Tweek’s neck, both hands pushed up under Tweek’s shirt.

“Y-yeah...and like…you have really pretty eyes…and the best smile…”

“I like _your_ smile,” Craig grinned, pulling Tweek over and onto his lap.

Something inside Craig took over. It was animalistic and raw. He pulled the jacket off of Tweek’s shoulders and moved his lips to Tweek’s mouth. He didn’t want to wait any more. He wanted Tweek now. He let his tongue roll over Tweek’s and moved one of his hands up to Tweek’s hair, tangling his fingers in the soft mess.

Tweek kissed him back, matching his rushed excitement. He tasted like beef and salt and chocolate. Craig gave his hair a gentle tug and the boy moaned into his mouth. Craig felt his pants get even tighter.

He grabbed the hem of Tweek’s shirt and started to pull up but was met by resistance from Tweek’s hands.

“Craig,” Tweek said, his voice soft but firm.

Craig stopped, opening his eyes, to look at the boy straddling his lap.

“W-we can’t. _I_ can’t.”

_An equal and opposite reaction._

Craig took in a shaky breath, but nodded, dropping the hem of the shirt. Tweek slid off his lap and moved back to sitting next to him.

They finished their meal, with Uptown Girl, and the subsequent Only The Good Die Young, the only sound. Craig was struck by the pathetic irony of Only The Good Die Young playing at that very minute, and thought maybe Billy Joel did have a song for everything.

After eating, Craig drove Tweek back to his house, Tweek cradling the letterman jacket, twisting the arm around, and staring at his lap.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t thought about it. Truthfully, most nights, it was the only thing Craig _could_ think about. But Craig and Tweek had actually thought about it _together_. They had had long, agonizing talks (multiple) about feelings and emotions.

Craig knew it was a lot of pressure for Tweek. Sex was a big step, and Tweek struggled with little steps. Tweek told him he wanted everything to be perfect, and Craig agreed. He just wasn’t exactly sure what “perfect” meant to Tweek. To Craig, they hit “perfect” every time Tweek was in his arms.

Craig pulled up to the curb outside Tweek’s house, and Tweek hesitated, before turning to look at him.

“A-are you mad at me?” Tweek asked. “Because I…couldn’t?”

“No,” Craig answered, with no hesitation.

Tweek bit his lip, turning to look out the window again. He turned back to Craig.

“I-it’s not that I don’t wa-want to.”

“I know.”

“I j-just…I want it to be…”

“I know,” Craig assured, reaching over to squeeze Tweek’s knee. “Me too.”

Tweek still sat for another minute, fiddling with the jacket. He suddenly looked up, as if realizing what he was doing.

“O-oh, here,” he offered, holding out the jacket.

“Nah,” Craig smiled, pushing it back. “It looks better on you.”

Tweek snorted. “You never wore it. How would you know?”

Craig didn’t reply, but the answer seemed obvious. By process of elimination, it couldn’t look better on Craig because nothing had ever looked as good on anyone as that jacket had on Tweek.

Tweek put his hand on his passenger door but held it there for another minute.

Finally, he pushed it open, and turned back around, pressing a quick kiss to Craig’s lips.

“I love you,” he said so quickly Craig wondered if he misheard him.

Craig sat dazed, as Tweek turned and jumped out of the car, running towards the house.

Craig blinked, snapping himself out of it. He rolled down the passenger window just as Tweek made it to his front door, fumbling for his key.

“Love you too!” Craig yelled across the yard.

Tweek turned around, giving a genuine smile before pushing the door open and walking inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry this chapter took a while, full disclosure, I'm going through a bit of a hard time right now and am in a depressive cycle. I'll work to get through it (❤️ thank you Fern). This too shall pass. But I will continue to write. That's a promise.
> 
> Love to you all. Please feel free to comment or reach out on my tumblr @dc-comic-girl


	3. Day 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Homecoming week at Park County High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I’m sorry this is getting posted at the end of the weekend, but it took me forever (it’s over 10K words 😱) and my beta is taking some time for herself (so if anyone is interested in betaing for me, please feel free to submit your interest to @dc-comic-girl on tumblr).
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I don’t own these characters, so I can’t take _complete _credit for it...__

> There's a boy in the treetop looking at the stars,  
> Waiting for a touchdown comin' in from Mars  
> Thinkin' "is there anybody out there?"

Craig rolled over, groping at his bedside table for the phone.

> There's a boy thinking of him, playin' his guitar  
> Searching for the answer buried in his heart  
> Thinkin' "ah, ha ha, is there anybody out there?"

His finger tapped at the screen blindly, trying to shut off the alarm and silence the device.

> Singin' "ah, ha ha, is there anybody-"

The silence confirmed his success, and Craig grabbed the now quiet phone and pulled it towards his pillow.

Tweek had been concerned about Craig’s truancy during their senior year since the previous semester had enforced such lackadaisical rules. He had implored Craig to set an alarm for school starting in September. Craig had thought (and continued to think) the idea was moot. Firstly, his mother continued to call him every morning at quarter to 8 to make sure he was awake, as she had since he was five. Secondly, forcing him to wake with the sun in no way ensured Craig would actually attend his classes once he got to school.

Still, Craig had dutifully handed his boyfriend his phone, conceding defeat with one twist of his rubber arm.

“The song you wake up to should be cheery,” Tweek had told him, while scanning through songs on Craig’s phone, before landing on Rockstar. “It should make you feel happy.”

“But this song doesn’t make me happy,” Craig had replied, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t even like it.”

“But…it talks about Mars.” Tweek had looked disappointed, clearly having put a lot of thought into this. Much more than Craig anticipated, at any rate. “Besides, you’re not supposed to choose a song you like, ‘cause then it’ll ruin the song for you.”

“Well mission accomplished, it’s already ruined for me. Can’t you choose something less…bubbly?”

Craig had taken his phone back, opening the music app and searching for a better song and Tweek had huffed and walked over to his keyboard. After a couple minutes of silent pouting, Tweek had started to play the song at a much slower pace.

Hearing Tweek sing the words, making them his own, had put the entire song in a different light for Craig. He had stopped searching Pandora, instead recording Tweek’s cover. Later that night, after Tweek had gone home, Craig had set the song as his alarm.

He felt pretty confident he would never get tired of waking up to Tweek’s voice.

Craig slowly opened his bleary eyes, holding his phone in front of his face. It was too damn early and he was too fucking tired. Homecoming week had been kicking his ass.

It wasn’t his first Homecoming. In fact, as a proud alumni linebacker for Park County High, Thomas had forced the tradition onto his family long before Craig even entered high school. For as long as Craig could remember, Thomas had trucked the entire family out to the annual football game the Friday of Homecoming every year, and every year, Craig fucking hated it.

Sitting in the cold parking lot while his father drank beer and reminisced with his old high school buddies; sitting in the crowded stands while people hooted and hollered and threw popcorn down the bleachers; listening to his father talk about how someday Craig was going to be out on that field, winning games and dating the pretty cheerleaders (though Thomas’ hopeful premonitions seemed to die down over the years).

Looking back, Craig regretted how much he had taken those days for granted. Days when he had to do nothing but show up and tolerate one game of football a year. He longed for the days when he could walk around South Park without getting slapped on the back by his father’s drinking buddies; or enter Tweek’s coffee without seeing a huge poster of himself in his football jersey; or talk to his father without seeing the look of pride in his eyes, which he knew would inevitably turn to shame after their loss tonight.

Since Monday, there had been events tailored around Park County students and alum, and between drill-sergeant captain Stan and Tweek’s sudden “let’s get involved” attitude, Craig felt like football was consuming his life.

Craig rubbed his eyes, looking over his missed messages.

 **Tweek ❤️:** you asleep?

 **Tweek ❤️:** Craig?

 **Tweek ❤️:** hello??

 **Tweek ❤️:** love you night ❤️

Guilt settled in his stomach. Last night had been the bonfire. Whose stupid idea it had been to have a fucking beach party the night before he was expected to get up and play a football game, Craig had no fucking clue.

Probably Stan’s.

Craig had had a few too many beers and taken a few too many hits from the bong Kenny McCormick had made out of an empty can. Tweek had agreed before the party even began to be the designated driver, so Craig had given himself permission to drink away the shittiness of the Homecoming week and the looming anxiety about today’s game. Now, seeing his missed messages, he regretted opting to get sloshed and losing out on a chance to talk to Tweek.

 **⭐️Craig⭐️:** sorry babe I must have passed out just getting these now

 **⭐️Craig⭐️:** see you soon

Craig prided himself on his ability to be there for Tweek when he needed him, day or night, and it made his stomach tighten to know Tweek had been lying alone in bed, with Craig not even bothering to say goodnight. Football was supposed to be something he was doing for Tweek, but instead it felt like, for the second time in his life, every set of eyes in town was on him, waiting to see how he’d mess up.

Craig sighed, running a hand through his hair. It felt stiff and greasy. Tiny pieces of sand fell out onto his pillow and he tried to remember if he had gone swimming in the pond last night. A vague recollection of an equally drunk Kevin Stoley daring him to jump in the pond with his clothes on tugged at the back of Craig’s mind.

He climbed out of bed, his joints stiff and sore. As soon as he was no longer in a horizontal position, Craig’s head pounded, and he had to resist the urge to lie back down and hide under his covers. He forced himself to stand. His stomach flipped, threatening to empty itself, as he made his way across the room.

Craig rummaged through his dresser and pulled out a clean t-shirt and pair of jeans. He walked to the bathroom, his legs feeling heavier than normal, and climbed into the shower, stripping off his boxers and last night’s shirt.

It wasn’t like he had never been hungover before. He had - a lot. He had just never had to get up at 7 in the morning after a night of heavy drinking and go play organized sports. He had never had the pressure of his father and his boyfriend and his town weighing him down while he fought through the headaches and nausea. He could always just curl up in bed, in the dark, and Tweek would eventually bring him a McMuffin.

The water washed over Craig, and he scrubbed his fingers into his scalp, causing more sand to fall on the floor of the bathtub.

Yep. Definitely the pond.

Craig stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and walked over to the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet, rummaging around for something to kill the aching pain behind his eyes.

“Fun night?” Tricia asked, walking into the bathroom behind Craig, checking her hair in the mirror.

“Yep. Living the dream. Do we have Advil or something?” Craig asked, pulling his toothbrush out of its holder and running it under the water.

“Mmm, no. I think I might have some Midol, though,” Tricia smirked, and Craig shot her the finger. Tricia gave her reflection a final nod of approval and walked out the door.

Craig slipped his t-shirt over his head and pulled his jeans on. He zipped them up and sighed with annoyance at how baggy they were around his waist. Craig had been naturally tall and thin his whole life, but since starting conditioning training, what little weight he had around his torso had melted down, leaving him with a dresser full of ill-fitting clothes and yet another reason to hate football.

Before heading down the stairs, Craig grabbed the belt hanging off his desk chair, feeding it through his belt loops as he joined his father, sister, and grandmother at the kitchen table.

Laura placed a huge plate of pancakes in front of Craig and gave him a kiss on the head. He flinched away, his head still feeling like it was tightening around his skull from the hangover. His grandmother gave him a knowing look but continued to sip her tea in silence.

“Did you and Tweek have a good time last night?” Laura asked, sitting down at the table and across from Craig, and pulling the plate of bacon towards herself.

“Yeah,” Craig mumbled, pushing his pancakes away and reaching instead for the pot of coffee.

“You got home pretty late. You boys didn’t drink, did you?” Laura asked in a stern voice, lowering her head to try and get a good look at Craig’s eyes.

Tricia let out a snort and Craig shot her a glare.

“Aww Laura, let ‘em have fun. He was just getting pumped for his big game, right son?” Thomas asked, slapping a hand onto Craig’s back. Craig scowled, his coffee splashing up to hit him in the face.

“Yeah. Totally pumped.”

Craig sat, sipping his coffee, while the rest of his family ate the huge spread his mother had prepared. He felt guilty, knowing that his mother probably cooked all morning to make the special breakfast with him in mind, the day of his Homecoming game, but the idea of eating any food while his stomach was twisting from stress and residual alcohol made his stomach turn.

“I remember my first Homecoming game,” Thomas pressed on. “Do you remember, Ma?”

Ruby gave a fond smile and a nod.

“I was so nervous; I couldn’t eat either. Scared I’d let the whole team down.”

“Aww, Craig,” Tricia chimed in, with mocking sympathy. “Are you nervous you’ll let the whole team down?”

Craig flipped her off and chugged down the rest of his coffee. “Ready?” he asked, standing from the table.

“Uh, no?” Tricia answered, gesturing to her unfinished food.

“Well, I’m going.” Craig grabbed his bag off the kitchen floor and slung it over his shoulder. Tricia let out a loud groan but grabbed a handful of bacon and followed her brother out of the kitchen.

“We’ll see you at the game!” Laura yelled after them, standing up from the table. “We’ll all be there cheering you on!”

* * *

The courtyard was covered with students wearing various shades of blue. A giant banner hung across the front entrance reading “Welcome Bighorns”.

Every day the school looked more and more like a goddamn circus.

Tweek, holding Craig’s hand, suddenly stopped, halting Craig in his tracks.

“What?” Craig asked, part of him hoping Tweek would find the spectacle too much pressure and ask him to skip. “What’s wrong?”

“Here,” Tweek said, shimmying out of Craig’s letterman jacket. “You need this for game day.”

Craig held up his hand in protest. “No, it looks better on you.”

Tweek rolled his eyes, holding the jacket out.

“Everyone is wearing them. Look.”

Tweek gestured widely at the courtyard. It was true, all Craig’s visible teammates seemed to be wearing their jackets in an act of solidarity. Even Kenny McCormick, whose jacket had yet to be worn two consecutive days by the same person and had adorned most of the female upper class at one point or another, was wearing his jacket, leaning against the school’s brick wall and talking to David Rodriguez.

“I don’t want it,” Craig pushed the jacket back at Tweek. “You wear it.”

“But I’m not on the team,” Tweek replied slowly, like Craig was stupid. “Besides, I’m already showing _my_ school spirit.”

He pointed to the blue sparkling clips holding his bangs back and then to his sneakers, the soles of which he had painted blue. On the midsole of his right sneaker he had written “Go Bighorns” and “Tucker #36” on his left. Craig couldn’t help but let a small smile escape.

“Fiiine,” Craig sighed, in exaggerated exasperation, only to hide his genuine exasperation. “Gimme the damn jacket.”

He slipped the jacket on, and held out his arms as if to say “happy now?”

Tweek grinned and leaned up on his toes to give Craig a kiss. He pulled back after a second and looked at Craig with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“You taste like coffee.”

“Oh, uh…” Craig started, guilt swelling in his chest.

“Tucker!” Stan yelled, jogging over to them. Craig had never been so happy for Stan Marsh to burst into his life. “Hi Tweek, nice shoes.”

“Th-thanks,” Tweek replied, clearly trying to regain his composure.

“You ready for the game?” Stan asked, turning his attention back to Craig. “You went a little wild last night.”

Craig sighed. Scratch his relief. This was still worse than any conversation coming with Tweek.

“Mind your business, Marsh,” Craig replied putting his arm around Tweek’s shoulder and leading him towards the school. As if Stan Marsh didn’t have a mickey stashed in his gym locker.

“See you at the pep rally!” Stan called after them. “Don’t cut class!”

Craig held his middle finger over his shoulder, walking through the front doors.

Inside the school was even more festive than out. Banners, posters, and streamers covered every conceivable piece of wall. Tweek had to push a large blue balloon out of the way to access his locker.

“H-he’s not wrong,” Tweek said. His head stuck in his locker, but Craig could tell by his voice that he was nervous.

“Tweek, if I was gonna skip, I would already be doing it,” Craig answered. He leaned his head against the locker next to Tweek’s and the cool metal eased his still throbbing head.

“No,” Tweek answered, shutting his locker. “I mean about last night. Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Craig lied, not lifting his head from the locker.

Tweek sighed. “I shouldn’t have let you drink all that at the beach,” he mumbled more to himself than Craig and reached into a side pouch of his backpack. Tweek pulled out a small white Tylenol bottle and handed it to Craig. Craig took it without hesitation and shook four pills into his palm before throwing them in his mouth and dry swallowing.

“Gah!” Tweek screamed, reaching for his hair. “Craig, that’s way too many! You’ll overdose!”

Craig grabbed the sides of Tweek’s face and kissed him hard, trying to demonstrate his gratitude through the gesture.

“Thank you,” he smiled when they finally broke apart. Tweek’s eyes were heavily lidded and he looked a little stunned. He blinked and gave his head a shake.

Craig monopolized on Tweek’s momentary serenity to intertwine their fingers again and lead him down the hall towards his English class.

“You excited for tonight?” Tweek asked, as they passed a particularly sparkly poster.

“Sure,” Craig shrugged, spinning Tweek around to face him as they pulled up in front of the English classroom.

“My Home Ec. Class is working on the floats for tomorrow’s parade next period,” Tweek said, his voice excited and nervous. “We still have a lot to do…”

“You’ll get it done,” Craig assured. “I could cut math and help you…”

“And risk the wrath of Stan Marsh? I think not,” Tweek laughed, rocking forward on his feet. “Jordan already said he’d help me, anyway.”

Craig’s eyes shot up at the alien name. Jordan wasn’t Heidi. He wasn’t Clyde, or Token, or Jimmy.

“Who’s that?” Craig asked, unable to filter between his stream of thought and his mouth.

“Jordan. You remember Jordan,” Tweek urged. “He was supposed to play Danny in Grease last year before the play was cancelled.”

Craig stared back, blankly, searching through his memory for a face to put to this name. Truthfully, he had never paid much attention to anyone who was not Tweek in the plays Tweek was in.

“Jordan,” Tweek tried again. “He’s in my drama class.”

“Oh, so it’s cool if Jordan skips class, but not me?” Craig asked. He felt his hands getting sweaty and his heartbeat quicken, but he couldn’t understand why.

“He has spare second period,” Tweek said, defensively. “What’s wrong?”

Craig sighed, pulling his hand away from Tweek’s and rubbing his head.

“I’m just tired,” he replied, trying to sound apologetic. “And hungover.”

Tweek took a hesitant step forward and leaned up on his toes again, kissing Craig’s cheek, and then ducking down so he was in Craig’s vision.

“I-I’m excited about tonight,” Tweek said, shyly. “I think you’ll be amazing.”

The warning bell rang and both boys looked up. Tweek gave an apologetic look.

“I’ll see you at the pep rally, okay?”

“’kay,” Craig replied, hating the petulant sound of his voice even as he spoke.

“I’ll be the one screaming ‘I love Craig Tucker’,” Tweek grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, mimicking cheering.

Craig felt his own mouth tug up into a smile.

“What makes you think there’ll only be one?”

* * *

The pep rally was, by far, Craig’s least favourite Homecoming event yet. Bebe had led her team in a rousing cheer, as Stan led his through a long sheet of paper with the words “Park County Bighorns” written on it. Strong Woman gave a boring speech about sportsmanship and how to be “gracious winners or losers”, and Jimmy spent nearly an hour introducing the members of the team while they all stood on a raised platform in the middle of the gym.

Craig was also fairly certain Clyde was texting him throughout the entirety of the assembly. The phone in his back pocket wouldn’t stop vibrating and Clyde would continually stand on his toes, leaning around teammates to try and make eye contact with Craig.

Craig had stopped answering Clyde’s texts two days ago, when all of their conversations circled back to how nervous Clyde was about the game. How worried he was to let down the school and Bebe. The conversations just made Craig’s stomach tighten, and he found it easier to simply ignore the boy.

The _only_ positive to come from the pep rally was that, following its completion, school was let out for the rest of the day.

As soon as Wendy dismissed the crowd, Craig ducked and dodged his way across the gym towards Tweek. He kept a wary eye out for any Jordans, but the only company Craig could see was Heidi. Her hair was still tied up in blue ribbon, but Craig noticed that the blue eyeliner she had sported to Physics that morning was already beginning to fade.

“Hi Craig!” Heidi yelled when he got close enough, and Tweek turned around with a big grin. Craig’s heart sped up.

“Hi Heidi,” Craig answered, sweeping Tweek into his arms and giving him a peck on the lips.

Heidi blushed, uncomfortably, and took a few steps back, suddenly becoming very interested in her sparkly blue blouse.

“You looked r-really hot up there,” Tweek whispered so only Craig could hear. “In your jacket and everything.” Craig grinned, giving him another kiss.

“Is your head feeling better?” Tweek asked, his voice a normal volume again and more concerned.

“Yep, all better. Come on.” Craig tugged at Tweek’s hand, trying to pull him to the exit. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go for a drive.”

Tweek stayed rooted to the ground, and Craig turned to look at him confused.

“Buh-but…the game…” Tweek said, matching Craig’s befuddlement.

“We’ll be back for it. Come on,” Craig tried again, but sighed when he saw Tweek’s resolve hold strong.

“E-everyone is going to hang out in the caf before game time…”

Tweek pulled out his phone and held it up for Craig to see the ongoing group chat that had surly been the source of his phone’s continuous notifications.

“I just…I don’t want you to miss out on stuff,” Tweek said softly.

Craig looked at the phone then back to Tweek’s face. He wanted to explain that he really didn’t give a shit what Clyde and Token and Bebe were doing. He wanted to be with Tweek. _Just_ Tweek. Wasn’t that the whole point of joining this stupid sport?

Tweek seemed to sense this, putting his hand on Craig’s face. Craig leaned into the hand.

“I told my dad the dance is over at 1 instead of 11,” Tweek said, his voice again a low whisper.

Craig smiled slightly and kissed the palm pressed to his cheek, but his disappointment lingered.

“Alright, let’s go see what’s happening in the caf then,” Craig sighed, wrapping Tweek up under his arm. He turned his head back around. “Heidi, you comin’?”

They made their way to the cafeteria, which was empty except for a small table near the vending machines, where Clyde, Token, Jimmy, Bebe, Nichole, and Red sat, playing with a deck of cards.

Craig slid into the table next to Token, making sure to leave enough room for Tweek to climb in. Heidi walked around the table and sat between Red and Jimmy.

“Oh hello, Craig, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Clyde said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Craig replied, reaching into the open bag of pretzels sitting in the middle of the table. It was starting to hit him he hadn’t eaten anything all day, since he skipped breakfast and then had the stupid pep rally over lunch.

“Do you know what this – stop eating my pretzels! – do you know what this is?” Clyde asked, holding up his phone and shaking it at Craig. Craig chewed the pretzels in his mouth, staring straight at Clyde but not answering.

“It’s a phone. You answer it when your best friend texts you asking where you are.”

Craig continued to chew, unflinchingly. He reached his hand for more pretzels, but Clyde batted him away, eliciting a raised middle finger.

“Wha-what are you guys doing?” Tweek asked his eyes darting around the cards laid out in the middle of the table.

“Oh, just learning that Nic is a cardsharp and no one knew,” Red answered, throwing an Oreo into the pile of Oreos in centre of the table.

“If you knew, I wouldn’t be a very effective cardsharp, would I?” Nichole asked, fanning her cards out on the table. Red threw hers down and Nichole giggled before sliding the pile of cookies towards herself.

Token grabbed a cookie from Nichole’s pile and took a bite. “Anyone want a pizza? I’m starved.” Craig could tell his naturally calm demeanour was cracking and he looked about as tired as Craig felt.

“Yes. Me,” Craig answered, reaching into his pocket to pull out a crumpled twenty and throw it to Token.

“It’s just the nerves,” Bebe interjected, not looking up from whatever she was scrolling through on her phone. “It’ll pass. You shouldn’t eat right before a big game.”

“Ah, my girlfriend the football expert,” Clyde laughed, mouth full of pretzel, and kissed the side of Bebe’s head.

“Ye-yeah, ac-ac-actually, I want some p-p-pii-pizza too,” Jimmy added, throwing his own money in Token’s direction, who was busy dialing.

“Fine. Throw up on the field. See if I care,” Bebe sighed, still looking at her phone.

“I-I’m not e-ev-ev-even playing,” Jimmy defended with a laugh.

“You can still throw up, Jimmy.”

“O-okay. Tha-thanks for your con-con-concern.”

The pizzas arrived quickly. Craig figured there weren’t a lot of orders to fill, due to it being 1:30 on a Friday and the entire county currently tailgating in their parking lot. Despite the general tepid response to pizza, everyone ended up having a slice. Even Bebe nibbled on one of Clyde’s crusts.

Kenny McCormick (sensing free food, Craig assumed) and Butters Stotch sauntered into the cafeteria soon after the pizza’s arrival and sat down at the already crowded table.

“So this is where the party is?” Kenny asked, taking a slice of meat lover’s pizza from the box. “You guys had the right idea. That pep rally was boring as shit, huh?”

“Oh my god, you’re all gonna be so sick for the game,” Bebe mumbled. Kenny laughed and stuck out his tongue at her, exposing the chewed-up pizza in his mouth.

“Ew,” she giggled, reaching into Clyde’s bag of pretzels and threw a couple at Kenny in retaliation.

“Woah, hey, woah,” Clyde said, defensively shielding his pretzel bag with his hands.

They passed the time playing Poker, Asshole, Hearts, and a rousing game of Crazy Eights. Craig could feel the tension mounting, radiating off all the players and cheerleaders gathered around the table.

The school itself felt suffocating, almost as if the fans outside were banging at the school walls to get in. He knew it wasn’t true – he could see through the windows of the cafeteria that most townspeople were simply sitting around their cars or in truck beds even as the rain clouds collected overhead, drinking beer and eating hotdogs, paying no mind to the kids inside. It did nothing to ease Craig’s claustrophobia.

Their team wasn’t good. In fact, while Craig didn’t have much of a frame of reference, they were probably quite bad. And their badness sat at the table with them, like an elephant in an already claustrophobic room.

They hadn’t played any games yet, and while Craig hadn’t exactly been one for attending season games in the past, he knew this was probably unusual. He also knew it was bizarre that the team they were playing for their Homecoming game was a tier above them. Unfortunately, with so many schools not reopening this September after the pandemic, pickings were slim when it came to competition. Apparently the coach had decided a difficult game was better than no game at all.

They were gonna lose. Everyone on the team knew it. And while no one would say it out loud, looking around the table, Craig could see that each of his teammates was truly shaken by the possibility that they would be the first team in the history of Park County High to lose on Homecoming weekend.

By about 3:30, Stan Marsh walked into the cafeteria, trailed by Kyle, Wendy, and Cartman. Craig couldn’t help but notice Stan wasn’t walking with his usual swagger. He knew they were gonna lose, too.

“You boys just about ready?” Stan asked, leaning at the head of the table as if he were the CEO of a meeting. Craig rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply but felt Tweek’s hand squeeze his. Craig caught sight of Cartman grabbing a piece of long-cold pizza and shooting Heidi a wink.

“Yeah, I guess,” Clyde sighed, pulling himself up from the table and leaning over to give a distracted Bebe a kiss. Craig tracked Bebe’s eyes and could see she was staring at Cartman staring at Heidi.

“Yeah, we gotta go too, right girls?” Bebe said, letting Clyde help her up from the table, never taking her eyes off Cartman. “Heidi, you come with us and help us get pumped, okay? Tweek, you too. I made a Spotify pump-up playlist.”

“O-okay,” Heidi stuttered, pushing out from the table.

Nichole leaned across the table, collecting all the strewn cards, while Red tied them up with an elastic band.

Tweek let go of Craig’s hand and pushed out from the table. “Good luck,” Craig heard the boy whisper, before walking over to Heidi.

Craig fought the urge to scoff.

Yeah. _Luck_.

* * *

Sweat and rain caused Craig’s hair and jersey to cling to him, uncomfortably. His shoulders ached from the heavy pads and the hit he had sustained last possession.

This sucked ass.

He had predicted they would lose, he just had not anticipated caring this much.

It was Homecoming. They were supposed to play a _shitty_ team. It was supposed to be an easy win that they could all walk away from like heroes and go dance the night away in the gym filled with stupid streamers and balloons. Not that Craig danced, but, still.

Instead, here they were – down by 10 with three minutes left, and the whole of Park County laughing at their stupid team.

_Fuck._

Craig blamed Stan. Stan should have called better plays; or thrown the ball to Token instead of handing it off to David last quarter; or fought the coach to have a kicker _other_ than Butters, who had missed the last three field goals by spectacular margins.

Craig let his eyes wander into the crowd, searching for Tweek. He could see Tweek’s parents, hosting a stand in between the two sets of bleachers and selling Styrofoam cups of coffee. He could see his own parents and uncle, sitting close to the field so his grandmother’s wheelchair could fit between Thomas and Skeeter.

He finally caught a glimpse of the blond bobbing around excitedly (or maybe nervously), sandwiched a bit higher on the bleachers between an enthralled Heidi and an apathetic Tricia. He tried to make eye contact with Tweek, but Tweek was too far and the cage of his helmet was too invasive.

Would he be embarrassed for Craig? Would he be ashamed to be seen with him at the dance later? Would he even want to wear Craig’s jacket to school on Monday?

Stan signalled for the offensive line to come in and circle around him in a huddle.

“Alright, men,” Stan said, in his most authoritative voice. “We need a touchdown.”

“We need a couple,” Matt mumbled, and Stan shot him a disapproving look.

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over. Come on boys, let’s bring this home for Park County!”

“Well, maybe if you ran a different fucking play than the one you’ve been running all night, we might be able to do something,” Craig snapped.

“Right. Look Craig, I know you’ve been playing football for almost a whole month now, so we should all totally refer to you as the expert, but maybe-”

“Uh, guys,” Kenny interrupted, nodding his head towards the clock.

Stan looked up at the scoreboard then back at the huddle and sighed.

“Okay dudes, Hail Mary. Everyone get as far down the field as they can, got it?”

Craig had a few more things he wanted to say to Stan but was cut off by his teammates clapping into the huddle and walking onto the field to line up.

He could hear Jimmy’s voice crackling over the speakers but couldn’t focus on the words he was saying. Bebe led her team in a new chant that Craig could only barely register over the cheers of the crowd and the blood pumping in his head. He caught sight of Stan to his left, turning his head towards the girls. Wendy was barely cheering – instead, mostly standing and wringing her pom poms together, fretfully. Stan snapped his head forward, hunching down behind Cartman.

“Hut!” Stan yelled, and Craig heard his voice crack.

Cartman threw the ball between his legs and right into Stan’s hands.

Craig took off.

He ran as quickly as his legs could carry him.

He hated football.

But he was fucking here now, so it would be great if he didn’t have to look like an idiot.

He ran a few yards, staring straight ahead. He tried to listen to Jimmy’s voice, sure at any minute he would announce that Stan was down and the other team had possession. Instead, he heard Jimmy say the words “McCormick” and “30 yard line”. He turned his head, only slightly, and could see Kenny out of the corner of his eye. The boy was in a full sprint, rivaling Craig’s, but was still a good yard behind.

Craig wasn’t sure who was behind him and was half convinced he would be tackled at any minute. He took a deep breath and turned his torso 90 degrees, still running straight, but finally able to see the commotion behind him.

Token was down. Cartman was blocking for Stan but looked like he could give out at any minute. Stan had his arm arched back, and Craig could see how wide his eyes were, even from half a field away. He seemed to be aiming for Kenny (of-fucking-course), but Craig kept running.

It felt like at least three minutes (and more like three hours) had passed since the snap, but when Craig looked up at the clock, there were still close to two minutes left on the board. He turned his eyes back to Stan, watching him wind up, and then hesitate, a look of horror on his face.

Craig turned to follow his line of vision just in time to see a defenseman grab Kenny by the waist and throw him to the ground.

“Mc-Mc-McCormick is d-d-ddown!”

Without thinking, Craig raised his right hand. He yelled out, but it was lost between the noise of the stadium and Craig’s own adrenaline. He was sure there was no way Stan could have heard him, but his eyes found Craig anyway, changing direction of his throwing arm just as the linebacker pushed past Cartman.

The ball spiraled out of Stan’s hands just as the boy tackled him to the ground. Craig would have liked to enjoy the moment, watching their hulking opponent bruise a couple of Stan’s ribs, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ball.

He could tell the ball was moving ahead of where he was, and he was subtly aware of the defensemen approaching him from behind. They were moving much faster than he was and had not caught him only because of his considerable lead. At this rate, they would catch him before he even got to the ball, which may be a moot point anyway because the ball was moving at a faster velocity than he was and would reach the ground of the end zone before he even caught it.

Mathematically, he couldn’t stay at this speed. He knew he had to accelerate.

Craig propelled himself forward, every nerve in his body on fire, forcing himself towards the ball. He felt the bodies behind him growing closer and closer, reaching out their hands towards him. He pushed harder.

He was so close now.

Craig could see the ball, still spinning, descending towards the earth. He saw the ground in front of him turn from slick green grass to the dark blue paint of the endzone. It was now or never.

Craig lunged, reaching out his hand to grab the ball. It touched his fingertips first, and Craig wiggled them towards himself, urging the ball into his palm.

The ball obeyed, sliding into his open hand, and Craig clamped down, instantly pulling the ball to his body and holding tight. He had no leverage now, post lung, and he could feel himself falling. He braced himself for the hit, silently hoping that he had done enough, run far enough, to get the stupid fucking touchdown.

He hit the ground with his shoulder, still holding the ball. One of the pursuing defensemen dove after him, clearly still in pursuit, landing with a thud on Craig’s right ankle. Craig let out a howl of pain as a whistle blew from somewhere beside him.

Craig lay on the cold, wet ground, gritting his teeth together. His lungs burned and his ankle screamed in pain. In a sort of detached way, he knew there were cheers around him – from the stands, from the cheerleaders – but he couldn’t get his body to move. He heard Jimmy’s voice say the word “touchdown”, and figured he had made it.

“Tucker!” he heard Kenny yell, but it seemed very far away. “Tucker you got the touchdown!”

Craig lifted his head, which felt very heavy, to see Kenny running towards him. His opponent pushed himself up off Craig’s leg and walked off, without offering Craig a hand.

The crowd was still cheering as Kenny pulled Craig back onto his feet. His head was spinning, and he let his eyes roam back to Tweek, now standing and clapping emphatically, bouncing up and down on his toes. Craig felt the corner of his mouth tug up as Kenny slid his arm under Craig’s and supported his weight. Craig thought he seemed oddly jovial and upbeat for someone who had just taken a tackle from someone at least twice his weight class.

Kenny led them back towards their home team bench and Craig could see Stan talking to Butters, apart from the rest of the team. Craig couldn’t see their faces, but their heads were so close, their helmets were pressed together. Craig knew they had to be talking about the upcoming field goal. He wondered if Stan was smart enough to have realized one point added onto his six would not bring them into the lead.

As they approached the rest of the team, Craig could see more clearly that Butters was shaking. He knew the opposing team could see it too, when he heard snickers as he walked by.

Butters was a fucking awful kicker. Truly, spectacularly bad. He couldn’t seem to aim, and his kicks were consistently too hard. More of his field goals had ended up soaring into the stands or hitting a cheerleader than making it through the uprights.

“I’m real sorry, fellas,” he had apologized to an unsympathetic team at halftime in the locker room. “I really thought it’d be more like soccer.”

“Come on, Leo,” Craig heard Kenny whisper. His arm, still around Craig’s shoulders, tightened.

Jose threw the ball to Nate, who caught it with ease, pushed the point of the ball into the ground, and held it for Butters.

Butters ran at the ball, drew back his leg, and kicked – hard.

The ball flew through the air and towards the bleachers to the right of the field. The visitors’ side laughed, and the opposing cheerleaders jeered.

Kenny let out a defeated sigh, as the offensive team cleared towards the bench.

“’Couldn’ta won anyway,” Craig pointed out, pulling out his mouth guard and picking up his water bottle.

“But _he_ coulda used a win,” Kenny mumbled, glumly, helping Craig down onto the bench.

Clyde stood from the bench and jogged onto the field, giving Craig’s shoulder a hard slap as he ran by.

The remaining offensive line left the field, filtering towards the home team bench, save Stan, gesturing for Butters and Token to huddle near him.

Craig watched, vaguely curious as Stan spoke, animatedly – Token nodding along and Butters shaking his head “no”. Stan slapped the top of Token’s helmet, and the running back left their mini huddle to line up with the team. Craig turned to ask Kenny what was going on, but Kenny’s eyes were glued to Butters, who was still standing with Stan and shaking his head, more and more panicked.

Craig watched Stan grab Butters’ shoulder and lean down so their helmets were touching again. Craig could feel the importance of the gesture from his position on the bench and realized with abject horror that Stan was instructing Butters to try an onside kick.

Craig could see Butters’ chest rise and fall as he let out a deep breath and nodded his head. Stan patted his shoulder and walked off the field towards them. He grabbed his water bottle and sat down on the other side of Kenny.

“The fuck was that, Marsh?” Craig asked as the defensemen lined up for Butters’ onside kick, having to yell over the crowd and Jimmy’s commentary. “Have we not been humiliated enough?”

Stan didn’t answer, watching the field with rapt attention. Kenny knit his hands together, pressed to his lips, as if he was saying a silent prayer.

Butters looked petrified, standing in front of the offensive line. Part of Criag briefly forgot how fucking annoying he was and actually felt bad for the scrawny, hundred-pound boy. The sympathy dissipated, however, as he watched Butters pull his leg back like Charlie Brown, and he instead braced himself for the inevitable embarrassment.

Craig could feel Kenny holding his breath, and it seemed to mirror the rest of the home crowd, watching Butters’ windup and waiting for the kick. The visitors seemed to be laughing at Park County’s obvious play of desperation. The clock was nearly out of time now, and Craig watched as the final seconds ticked down.

Butters brought his leg down swiftly, but the payoff didn’t come. The kick was light. Not just comparative to his previous kicks, but comparative to anything. The ball barely made it off the ground, veering slightly to the left, and wasn’t even close to anyone on the opposing team.

Before Craig had a chance to even register the incongruent intensity of Butters’ kick, Token had grabbed the ball and was off to a full sprint, Clyde trailing behind him at a noticeably slower pace.

Unlike Craig’s own run into the endzone, Token’s seemed to happen in a blur. Maybe it was the stunned silence of the crowd, or the lack of any visible threat from the other team, but it seemed like Token made it down the field (with far more grace than Craig), before Craig really had a chance to compute what was happening. Even Jimmy seemed shocked, as the speakers seemed to be echoing his breaths rather than his play-by-plays.

A burly member of the opposing team seemed to shake out of his shock and charge at Token, but was easily blocked by Clyde, allowing Token to make it the final yards into the endzone.

He threw the ball down onto the blue-painted grass and turned to look over at his bench, most of them still silent and stunned.

Kenny was the first to stand, letting out a bellowing holler before rushing onto the field, throwing his arms around a stunned looking Butters and twirling him around.

“A-and…the Bighorns…win?” Jimmy announced, sounding like he was confirming with someone what had actually just happened. “Th-the Bighorns win!”

Stan was on his feet now, too, screaming and running towards centre field. He engulfed both Kenny and Butters into a hug, nearly tackling them to the grass.

Craig couldn’t seem to compute what was happening, his brain and body not making the logical connections necessary.

“We…won?” he asked no one in particular.

“How the fuck did Butters do that?” Matt asked, a couple people down the bench from him.

More and more people were filtering out of the stands and onto the field. The cheerleaders had left the sidelines and joined the celebrating team on the field. People were slipping in the mud, dancing in the rain.

“Craig!” he heard a voice scream behind, and he turned his body around to look.

Tweek was running down the stairs of the bleachers, his hair matted and sticking to his head from the rain.

“Craig, you won!”

Craig’s legs finally co-operated, and he stood, stumbling over towards the stands and his screaming boyfriend, limping slightly.

Tweek jumped into his arms, nearly knocking him back down onto the ground. He tried his best to steady himself, resting his weight on his left leg, while Tweek kissed all around his face.

“You won! And you got a touchdown! I can’t believe it!”

“Geez,” Craig laughed, as Tweek continued to pepper him with kisses. “Where was the faith? Football’s my bitch.”

* * *

The changeroom was a buzz of excitement after the game, in complete juxtaposition to the nervous energy that had plagued them pre-game.

“Can you believe-”

“-thought we were done for-”

“-to go, Butters!”

It seemed to Craig that Butters was getting most, if not all, of the glory for the final touchdown, which had actually been scored by Token. Token didn’t seem to mind, though, even offering his own congratulatory slap on the back to Butters when they got off the field. Craig figured Kenny was right – the boy did deserve a win.

As collateral to the final play of the game, Craig’s touchdown had also been forgotten, which wouldn’t bother him so much if it hadn’t cost him his goddamn ankle.

 _It was worth it_ , he reminded himself. _It was worth it to see Tweek so proud_.

Tweek had been proud. He had stayed by Craig’s side, kissing and hugging him, as the throngs of proud neighbours and friends poured off the stands to congratulate Craig on winning his first football game. Tweek had spoken animatedly with Thomas about how exciting the game was, and how well Craig played. Tweek had skillfully pulled Craig’s hand towards the changing room and away from his father, as Richard approached them, probably to run some new promotional ideas by Craig.

By the end of the game, relief had flooded Craig’s body. The heavy feeling in his stomach was gone, and he felt like he could do anything. He had asked if Tweek wanted to change for the dance in the changeroom with the team, but Tweek had quickly refused the offer.

“I don’t want you to see me before I’m ready,” Tweek had said, blushing.

“Why? It’s a dance, not a wedding.” Craig had asked and felt guilty when Tweek blushed harder.

“I’m just going to go change in the drama room,” Tweek had said, fiddling with the clip in his hair.

Craig remembered the twisting feeling in his stomach, wondering if Jordan would _also_ be changing in the drama room, but wasn’t willing to risk ruining the good mood by asking.

Craig pulled his grey shirt up over his arms and started buttoning from the bottom.

“Ooo, looking good, Craig,” Clyde grinned, shooting him a wink. “Big night planned? I saw you and Tweek out there on the field.”

Craig shot Clyde the finger, reaching down into his bag to pull out a black tie.

“I can’t believe we fucking won,” Token laughed, staring in a mirror and tying his bowtie. “Gonna make that parade tomorrow a lot less depressing.”

“Yeah, nothing worse than a depressing parade,” Clyde nodded, sagely. “Craig, where _is_ Tweek? He too good for us?”

Craig sat down on the bench next to the lockers and laced up his dress shoes, his right ankle giving an angry shot of pain. “He’s in the drama room. He didn’t want me to see him before the dance or whatever.”

“That’s pretty fucking gay, man,” Clyde laughed into the mirror, running a comb through his hair. Craig rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flip Clyde off for what had to be the hundredth time that day. He grabbed his backpack, instead opting to be the more mature man.

“Go fuck yourself, Donovan,” Craig said, before walking out the door.

* * *

Craig leaned against his Pinto in the parking lot, waiting for Tweek. The rain had stopped, but the air was still chilled with the aftermath. Craig took a drag off his cigarette, more to stay warm than anything else.

He turned to look at the football field, now mostly emptied of fans. The grass was covered with plastic cups and food wrappers. Tiny pieces of popcorn looking like confetti. Craig let himself smile as he took another drag from his cigarette.

“Hey there, football star.”

Craig dropped the butt on the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his dress shoe and turned around.

Tweek had on a starch white shirt, perfectly fit to his slim body (unlike Craig’s slightly-too-baggy grey one, mostly hidden by his letterman’s jacket), a baby blue tie, navy slacks, and brown dress shoes. His hair was still sporting the sparkly blue clips, but it seemed to have been brushed and gelled back slightly.

Craig had to admit, regardless of how gay Clyde thought it was, he was glad he had waited for the dramatic reveal.

He walked over to his boyfriend, pulling him into his arms and kissed him deeply, only pulling back when Tweek leaned too far into him and his ankle throbbed. He let out a hiss of pain, taking a step back.

“Wha-what’s wrong?” Tweek asked, his eyes suddenly growing wide with worry.

“Nothing,” Craig replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Just fucked up my ankle with that stupid endzone dive. I’m good.”

“Oh…” Tweek said, his eyes still looking worried. “We can go home then, if you want. If that’s easier.”

Craig thought about it for a minute. All he had wanted all day, hell, most days, was to be alone in his room with Tweek. Now he had a legitimate case for leaving this stupid school and doing just that. But looking at Tweek, so dressed up and proud, Craig couldn’t bring himself to take this night away from him.

“Nah, I mean, we’re here now. May as well stay for a while,” Craig shrugged, offering his hand. Tweek grinned, taking it eagerly.

* * *

The gym was decorated exactly like every stupid teen drama Craig had ever seen. Stupid crepe flowers hung on the walls, and balloons littered the dance floor. A DJ was situated near the back of the gym, and a buffet table had been set up to the right. The bleachers had been collapsed and pushed into the wall, making room for multiple folding tables, dressed in cheap looking white plastic tablecloths.

Craig thought it all looked very, very dumb, but as he was scanning the room, he caught sight of Tweek staring at everything with a dreamy look in his eyes. He silently reminded himself not to say anything too harsh about the set up.

Craig spotted Token and Clyde across the room, seated at a table and laughing. He gave Tweek’s hand a squeeze and pointed to the table. Tweek grinned and led the way.

“Hi, guys,” Tweek said, pulling out a chair for Craig. “Can we sit h-here?”

“Well, you can Tweek, but this is kinda the ‘cool’ table, so Craig has to go,” Clyde answered, his face completely serious.

Craig leaned across Tweek and gave Clyde a hard punch on the arm.

“Ow! Craig!” Clyde yelled, and turned to Token for support.

Craig sat down in the chair Tweek pulled out and Tweek sat down next to him.

“Tweek!” Craig heard Bebe squeal, running towards the table. “Oh my god, you look sooo cute!”

Bebe was wearing a short, shiny, red dress, which matched her very high heels and sparkly red clutch. She set the purse down on the table next to Clyde.

“You do look breathtaking, Tweek. Totally worth not changing in a football changeroom,” Clyde nodded solemnly, and Craig shot him a glare. Bebe gave Clyde’s arm a hard tug, splitting his attention. “What’s up?” he asked, turning to look up at his girlfriend.

“Come get food from the buffet with me. I don’t want to be the first one,” Bebe pouted, tugging harder.

Clyde let out an exaggerated sigh and pushed himself out from the table.

“Well gentlemen, my time has come.”

As Clyde let Bebe pull him up, Jimmy appeared behind Craig.

“Wha-wha-what? I shhh-shhh-show up to say ‘hhh-hi’ and everyone sc-sc-scatters?”

“We’ll be right back Jim, Bebe needs help understanding how buffets work,” Clyde shrugged, as Bebe continued to tug.

“Ca-careful Bebe, y-you can sss-still throw up,” Jimmy called after them. Bebe turned her head over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him as they walked away.

“Hey Jimmy,” Tweek said, “you did a really good job with the commentary. Everyone was saying so.”

“Tha-thanks, Tweek,” Jimmy smiled, and slapped one hand on Token’s shoulder and the other on Craig’s. “I-it’s easy when you hhh-have these two i-i-idiots being so d-dramatic.”

Tweek laughed and Craig shoved Jimmy’s hand off his shoulder.

“H-how’s the a-an-ank-ank-ank- how’s the leg, C-Craig? You were lll-li-limping pretty ba-ba-bad.” Jimmy asked, his smile replaced with concern.

“I’ll live,” Craig shrugged, picking up a roll from the centre of the table and buttering it.

“Take a seat, Jim,” Token offered, patting the chair next to him.

“N-nah, I-I’m just s-saying ‘hi’. I’m sss-sitting over th-there with Timmy and Jessie a-and Lola. We-we’re aiming for the ddd-double da-date.”

“Wa?” Clyde asked, walking back up to the table, food from his plate already in his mouth. He swallowed. “Why aren’t you sitting with us?”

“B-because you-you’re not a be-bea-beautiful woman,” Jimmy shrugged apologetically.

“It’s true,” Bebe said, sadly, pulling her own chair out. “He’s not.”

“Can’t you ever support me?” Clyde hissed back at her, feigning a sob.

“B-besides, I d-do-don’t want to be sss-seen with a cr-cr-cripple. Sorry, Craig,” Jimmy shrugged again, patting Craig’s back.

Craig rolled his eyes, grabbing another bun.

“Well, boo to you and your beautiful women,” Clyde scowled. “We have a beautiful Tweek.”

“Wach it,” Craig warned, his mouth full.

“Oooo, whatcha gonna do? Chase me on your bum leg? Fuck off,” Clyde replied, brushing Craig off dismissively.

“Hi guys,” Heidi said, shyly, walking up to the chair beside Bebe’s and pulling it out. She was wearing a simple, knee length white dress with blue flowers around the bottom and top and blue flats.

“Oh my god! Heidi! Look at you!” Bebe squealed, squeezing Heidi’s arm. “Come here, we have to take a picture!”

“You didn’t want to take a picture with me,” Clyde pouted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Um, I’m on a date with Heidi right now, so I’m gonna need you to back off,” Bebe replied, holding up a hand to Clyde.

Clyde sighed, shrugging to Tweek. “Once again, overlooked because I’m not a beautiful woman.”

By the time Nichole had dragged her gammer friend Tammy over to the table, Craig’s stomach was starting to hurt from hunger, the rolls no longer satiating. Nichole was wearing a yellow dress, with sleeves that hung off her shoulders. The dress was exactly the same colour as Token’s shirt and Craig suspected they had probably spent a substantial amount of time planning that.

Craig’s stomach let out an audible growl and Tweek pushed out from the table.

“I’ll go get us some food,” he offered, giving Craig’s arm a squeeze before walking towards the buffet. Craig watched him walk away, past the girls, all huddled together, giggling and taking pictures on Bebe’s phone.

“Dude, how are you gonna dance on that ankle?” Token asked, once Tweek was out of earshot.

“What?” Craig replied, caught off guard.

“When people start dancing, what are you going to do? You can’t even stand.”

“I never dance.” Craig felt oddly defensive.

Token gave a look to Clyde, who raised his eyebrows and looked back down at his plate.

“What?” Craig asked, his cheeks reddening. “I never danced before. Why would I dance now?”

“Well you never played football before either…” Token offered, letting his voice drop off.

“Yeah, and I nearly broke my leg. So, maybe that’s some kind of sign.”

Token and Clyde both looked down at their plates, not saying anything.

“Besides,” Craig continued, feeling the need to explain himself more. “Tweek doesn’t even _like_ dancing in public. He’s not into that gushy romance stuff.”

“He’s in plays…” Token mumbled, pushing his food around his plate.

“And, also, an hour ago he made you meet him in the rain so he could have a ‘first look’ moment, so, ya know. Something to consider,” Clyde added, taking a sip of his coke.

“Fuck off, Clyde,” Craig shot back, as Tweek rejoined their table, carrying two plates of food.

“Wh-what are you ta-talking about?” Tweek asked, as all three boys fell silent.

“Nothing,” Craig lied, as static erupted from the microphone of the DJ’s booth. Everyone turned to look. Kyle Broflovski was standing next to the booth, holding the microphone in one hand and an envelope in the other.

“Hi everyone, good evening and thanks for coming. I want to offer a big congratulations to our Park County Bighorns on their incredible win tonight! Way to make us proud boys!”

A table across the gym let out a boisterous yell, and Craig looked over to see Kenny and Cartman screaming and whistling, completely outshining any applause from anyone else in the room.

Kyle rolled his eyes and pressed on.

“Yeah, well, it’s time to announce our 2020 Homecoming King and Queen. The votes are in and the winners are…”

Again, a ruckus came from the other side of the gym and Craig could tell Kenny was slamming his hands against the table in a mock drumroll. Kyle tore open the envelope, and Craig thought he saw the boy flinch with what looked to be pain. But, if he had, he recovered just as quickly.

“Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger!”

The crowd erupted in applause at the completely expected outcome, and Craig rolled his eyes.

Wendy led Stan to the raised podium to the left of the DJ booth. She was wearing a metallic looking silver dress, that had no back and puffed out at the skirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail that Craig guessed she had taken at least an hour to make look effortless.

Stan was in a simple white dress shirt with a black tie and grey pants. He was still wearing his letterman’s jacket, and Craig thought the two of them standing there looked like some kind of advertisement for something he had no interest in.

Two grade ten girls fussed over plastic crowns with the fake jewels, placing them on the respective heads of the Homecoming court. The tables let out another bout of applause. Kyle cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“And now, they will, um, they will share the first dance,” Kyle finished, quickly handing the microphone back to the DJ and walking back to his table, where Kenny and Cartman had been making so much noise.

Wendy and Stan stood in the middle of the designated dance floor, surrounded by loose balloons. Stan wrapped his arms around Wendy’s tiny waist and pulled her closer. She clasped her hands behind his neck, resting her forearms on his shoulders.

A slow and syrupy song Craig had heard Tweek play more than once started, and the two began to sway, staring into each other’s eyes.

> A drop in the ocean  
> A change in the weather  
> I was praying that you and me might end up together.  
> It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
> But I'm holding you closer than most  
> 'Cause you are my heaven.

Clyde stood up from the table, wordlessly offering his hand to Bebe, who took it and jumped up from the table with an ear-to-ear grin. Clyde led her onto the dance floor, joining some of the other couples filtering out.

Kenny walked out onto the floor with Sally Darson, who was quick to wrap her arms tightly around his neck.

Cartman followed, pulling his own date, who Craig didn’t recognize but who looked to be only in grade nine or ten. He led her to a section of the floor directly in front of their table, making direct eye contact with Heidi as he wrapped his arms around the girl.

“I, uh…have to go to the washroom,” Heidi said, before scurrying out of the gym.

“Nic, you want to dance?” Token asked, pushing himself out from the table.

“I guess,” she replied, with a fake sigh, letting Token help her up.

An eleventh grade boy from another table came over to ask Tammy if she wanted to dance, leaving just Craig and Tweek sitting at the table.

> Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no  
> Heaven doesn't seem far away.  
> Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no  
> Heaven doesn't seem far away.

Craig looked over at Tweek, who was watching the crowd in what seemed to be a mixture of envy and rapture.

Craig swallowed, his mouth feeling dry.

“Tweek…we could…uh…I mean…if you want, we could-”

“No,” Tweek responded, cutting Craig off. “No, it’s okay. Your leg is hurt. It’s okay.”

“I’m really okay, I could just-”

Tweek grabbed Craig’s hand, holding it tight and smiling up at him, though Craig could tell it was strained.

“It’s fine. Really.”

Craig pulled Tweek’s hand up to his lips and kissed it gently before placing it back on the table.

It may have been fine, but it wasn’t perfect.

It was strange. Tweek hated when people stared at him. He got nervous in large crowds. He was the one who curbed any public displays of affection as soon as he felt uncomfortable.

Strange as it was, one thing seemed very clear as Craig watched Tweek watch their classmates dance around the gym.

Tweek seemed pretty into that gushy romance stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you liked it!! Big shout out to DaftyPhun and ambercreek95 for letting me bounce my manic ideas off them and for letting me continuously send them Billy Joel songs.
> 
> Also a big shout out to my little brother Matt, who has got all the athletic talent in the family. I know it _seems _like I’m super good at football, but I honestly know shamefully little about it:  
>   
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> I honestly couldn’t have done this chapter without him. Love you, Matty.
> 
> Also, love to all of you! Please stay safe ❤️


	4. Day 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig finally takes Tweek on a first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CANADA DAY!
> 
> I hope you guys are all doing well. Sorry this chapter took so long. I have heard the cries of the people for some one-on-one Creek time, and this is my response. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I totally own these character - jks! I don't own anything. Did I getcha?

“Did you get 48 meters per second for number 7?”

Craig pulled his eyes away from the counter to look back at Heidi.

“What?”

“For number 7, what did you get for the initial velocity?”

“Oh uh…”

Craig and Heidi had been working on their physics assignment for the past three hours. Well, Heidi had been working. Craig had been observing the customers of Tweek’s coffee verbally assault his boyfriend over festive autumn drinks, all the while flexing and unflexing his fingers into fists. He wanted to get up to say something to the Ugg wearing bitch who had just returned her drink for the third time but knew it would only make Tweek more flustered.

“Craig, ar-are you doing okay?” Heidi asked, her eyes tracking back to where Tweek was standing at the counter, nodding to the girl’s complaints and pulling desperately at his hair.

“Yeah, sorry,” Craig mumbled, trying to refocus his eyes on his textbook.

“O-oh, don’t be. I just mean…yeah…this place has been a madhouse lately, huh?”

Craig grunted his agreement, and Heidi picked at her cuticle.

“I know Tweek seems overwhelmed and, like, tired, I just kinda hope he gets a break-”

“Heidi,” Craig interrupted. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but he could hear the cutting tone to his voice. “Can we just…can we just do the assignment. I just want to finish.”

“O-oh, oh sure. Sorry,” Heidi replied, lowering her head back into her book, as if it were she who had been shirking their assignment. Craig felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t think of the right words. Instead, he lowered his own head and started plugging values into his calculator.

The two worked in relative silence as the other customers buzzed around the shop. At the beginning of the month, there had been a small spike in Covid cases in Colorado, reigniting all Tweek’s virus related paranoias. Tweek had suggested to his father they reimplement a rule for customers to wear masks while visiting the coffeehouse, but apparently Richard had started spewing some nonsense about the “authentic coffeehouse experience” and “being able to see a smile could sometimes be the reassurance that a person needed” and blah blah blah, and the whole plan had fallen by the wayside.

Tweek continued to wear his own mask – a light blue one with music notes on it that Bebe had sewn for him during the quarantine – but the fabric made it difficult to understand him, especially when he was nervous and stuttering. Craig thought he sounded a bit like Kenny McCormick – ages 8 through 12, back when he used to wear his brother’s hand-me-down coat every day, which covered all of his mouth and most of his face.

“I hate the fall,” Tweek hissed venomously, walking over to their table. Craig had gotten pretty adept at interpreting Tweek through the mask, and it gave him a sense of pride.

“I’ve sold more pumpkin spice lattes in the last two weeks than I have any other type of drink since the pandemic. Also, a girl just refused a cupcake and asked for another one because the icing wasn’t-nnn-‘Instagram worthy’. Please kill me now.”

Heidi gave Tweek a sympathetic smile. “I know what you mean. Ever since the drive-in opened back up for the fall, it’s been busier than ever. I guess people really missed going to the movies.”

Craig was sure Tweek would burst into a rant about how dangerous movie theaters were even before Covid-19, due to the tightly packed rooms, bottleneck-causing exits, and lack of proper security screening placed on movie goers, but the boy seemed too run off his feet to even rant. Tweek just gave an understanding nod and grabbed the few coins of a tip left on the table behind them.

“How’s the-nnn-physics?” Tweek asked, surveying the notebooks in front of them. Craig tried to casually place his arm next to his notebook to hide how little he had completed.

“Good!” Heidi replied cheerily. “We’re almost done. Isn’t it the best feeling to finish your homework on Saturday and not have to worry about it on Sunday, Craig?”

“Yep. Better than sex,” Craig replied, fighting to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Tweek rolled his eyes to Heidi, but a blush crept up his cheeks, above the cloth of his mask. “I…nn…b-better get back. Y-you science nerds want anything?”

“Yes, I would like one of these pumpkin spice lattes I keep hearing about,” Heidi replied in a faux-pretentious voice.

“And my muffin has a chunk missing, so I want another one for Instagram,” Craig nodded, his face serious.

Craig could see Tweek open his mouth under the mask to respond, but a girl at the counter started ringing the bell impatiently.

“I hate you both,” Tweek shot at them as he made his way back to the counter. Heidi laughed and Craig couldn’t help but let a smile tug at his lips.

“He’s so funny,” Heidi giggled, turning back to her notebook.

“Yeah,” Craig agreed, unable to take his eyes away from his boyfriend, running around behind the counter, frantically.

They resumed their silence, each working on determining velocity of different objects under the presence of different forces. Craig tried to finish as much as he could. He had figured out pretty quickly that Heidi would simply give him any answers he didn’t have, so there was no real urgency to finish before his partner, but there was a sense of obligation that tugged at him. Every time Heidi simply handed over homework she had spent hours on, without so much as a protest, Craig felt deeply guilty, as if he was using the girl.

“So…you work at the drive-in?” Craig asked, offering his weak attempt at small talk as a balm for his earlier dismissal of conversation.

“O-oh, yeah! Just started,” Heidi grinned, looking up from her book. “Red got me the job!”

“ _Red_ works at the drive-in?” Craig asked, this time with a smirk as he tried to imagine his cousin pulling herself away from her phone long enough to actively participate in a job.

“Yeah, she likes seeing the old movies. Right now, they’re playing all the classics for Halloween. We work concessions! It’s a lot of fun, and pretty safe because mostly everyone just stays in their cars.”

Craig knew Heidi was still talking, but it was basically just humming in the background. He and Tweek hadn’t been on a real date since long before the pandemic. Dates which, retrospectively, Tweek apparently did not count. Since quarantine had lifted in South Park and then Denver, theme parks had stayed closed, professional sports games had been cancelled, and Tweek remained far too nervous to ever go to a crowded restaurant. Heidi was right, being in his Pinto all night _would_ be safe (regardless of how many times Tweek warned Craig that it would explode). They hung out in Craig’s car all the time, but if they did it while seeing a movie, it might feel like something…special. Craig figured they were long overdue for a first date.

“Craig?”

Craig looked up at Heidi. She was picking at her cuticle again.

“Uh…sorry?” Craig asked, feeling slightly annoyed to be continually shaken from his own thoughts.

“Oh…I-I just said that last weekend Eric came with that grade ten girl he brought to Homecoming…I think her name is Tori or…Lori…or…something…”

“Oh,” Craig responded, with a nod, not sure what kind of response Heidi was hoping for.

“And, I mean, he completely just left her in the car and came and stood by the concession stand all night. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Cartman gravitating towards food? Yeah, better call Mulder and Scully,” Craig smirked, looking back down at his notebook.

Heidi stayed quiet for a couple of minutes and Craig was satisfied that the conversation had come to a natural conclusion.

“Does he…does he ever talk about me?” Heidi suddenly asked, her voice small and fragile sounding.

“Who?” Craig asked back, caught off guard.

“Like…Eric. Does he ever talk about me?”

Heidi was avoiding eye-contact now, looking everywhere around the coffeeshop but across the table.

“No?” Craig answered, though it came out more like a question.

“Oh…I just thought, because you’re on the football team with him…”

Craig wrinkled his nose, trying to understand what Heidi was looking for from him.

“Heidi…we avoid talking to Cartman because he’s an asshole and everybody hates him.” Craig spoke slowly, trying to make himself clear.

Heidi flinched, but nodded, looking down at her lap.

“I just…I didn’t know if he was saying, like, bad stuff about me,” Heidi shrugged, her voice trailing off.

“Not to me,” Craig shrugged back, turning back to his assignment.

“But you’d tell me, right?” Heidi asked, her voice trembling but loud.

“Right.”

“…promise?”

Craig clenched his jaw to keep from losing his patience at the immaturity of the conversation.

“I promise. Whadja get for number 12?”

* * *

“I hate it,” Tweek said, starring out his window gloomily. “I’m gonna catch coronavirus and die.”

“You’re not gonna catch coronavirus,” Craig assured, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Gah! You don’t know that!” Tweek yelled grabbing at his hair.

“There hasn’t been a new case in South Park for months, honey,” Craig assured, reaching his hand over to grab Tweek’s.

Tweek pulled his hand away, still grabbing at his hair and looking out the window. “You _know_ people can be asymptomatic for weeks, or even for the whole time and still pass it on. And all I do at work is touch things that people have put their mouths on, so I’m definitely the most at risk. And people can travel all over Colorado.”

Craig opened his mouth to argue this point more (why would anyone actually _choose_ to come to South Park), but decided it was a better idea to take Tweek’s side.

“You’re right, babe, it is scary. I’m glad you’re wearing your mask though,” Craig offered.

Tweek let out a scoff, but relinquished hold on his hair to grab Craig’s hand.

“Everyone hates the mask. People-nnn-have complained to my dad.”

“I think it’s cute.” Craig turned his head slightly to see Tweek turning back to the window, this time with a smile on his face.

“Can I put on music?” Tweek asked, already reaching for Craig’s phone. He always asked, even though Craig was pretty sure he’d play it with or without permission. Tweek’s thumb print could unlock his phone.

“Not Billy Joel,” Craig responded and smirked at Tweek’s glare.

Tweek put on a country song Craig hadn’t heard before and turned up the stereo. Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the twangy guitar but was pleased when Tweek started to sing along.

“When the lights go down…when you’re stuck here in this town, with nowhere to go, so you escape through the radio. And you worked all week to barely make ends meet- Craig where are you going?” Tweek asked, cutting himself off from singing and turning around in his seat. “You missed the turn to my house.”

“Taking you out,” Craig responded nonchalantly. “Don’t worry I already told your mom.”

“Gah! Craig! I don’t want to go to Denver!” Tweek yelled, reaching up for his hair again.

“We’re not going to Denver. Leave your hair alone.” Craig grabbed Tweek’s hand and held it firmly. He could feel Tweek’s fingers twitching under his palm.

The song continued to play, followed by a different, but equally annoying, country song. This time, Tweek didn’t sing along, which only increased its annoyingness tenfold.

“Where are we going?” Tweek asked, after a few minutes of silence.

Craig pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to decide if it was better to keep his first date idea a surprise or to placate Tweek.

“The drive-in,” Craig finally answered, trying to catch Tweek’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Tweek seemed uncharacteristically stoic.

“Do you want me to turn around?” Craig asked, finding the silence surprisingly uncomfortable.

Tweek seemed to think about it for a minute.

“Do…do we need to be outside of the car?”

“No,” Craig answered quickly. “I set up the trunk, so we don’t have to be around anyone else…but if you want, we can just go back and watch a movie at your place-”

“No,” Tweek interrupted. “N-no. I’m okay. This is good. As long as it’s just us.”

* * *

Craig pulled up to the tiny gate outside the field-converted-parking lot.

“Twelve fifty,” a short boy Craig recognized from school but couldn’t name ordered, with an outstretched hand.

Craig reached into his pocket to pull out a ten and a five and dropped them in the boy’s hand. He tried hard to ignore Tweek’s flinch as the boy handed him back two ones and two quarters.

Tweek immediately removed the change from Craig’s hand, rubbing hand sanitizer all over the quarters, his own hands, and finally Craig’s right hand. Craig barely paid attention to the ritual, using his other hand to drive up the dirt path, looking for a good place by the large white screen.

He found a spot, off to the side of the other cars, under a tall oak tree, casting a shadow in the setting sun. Craig carefully backed in, so his hatchback was facing where the movie would be projected. He put the car in park and turned to Tweek. The blond was shaking slightly.

“You sure this is okay?” Craig asked, reluctantly prepared to swallow the twelve bucks and head home.

“Y-yeah, I’m just cold,” Tweek shrugged, turning down Craig’s AC.

Craig reached into the back and pulled his letterman jacket off the seat. He presented it to Tweek, who took it gratefully.

“Come on,” Craig nodded his head to the back. “I wanna show you,”

After Heidi had finished the assignment, and Craig had finished trying, she had asked Craig for a ride home. Usually Craig didn’t like to leave Tweek alone to hold down his parents’ coffee shop, but he had monopolized on the opportunity to turn his trunk into a somewhat respectable first date setting.

Craig had laid out a blanket on the car’s floor and leaned a bunch of pillows from his bed up against the back of the backseat. He had lined the sides of the blanket with candy and chocolate, and made a run to Subway before heading back to Tweek Bros. He knew Subway was one of the fast food restaurants Tweek was most comfortable with, since he could see the servers making his food.

Craig lifted the hatchback door to reveal the spread he had set up, feeling oddly shy with anticipation of Tweek’s reaction. Tweek walked around the back of the car and stuck his head into the trunk.

“You got Skittles!” Tweek exclaimed, examining the layout more closely. “And Kit-Kats!”

“Yeah,” Craig said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Tweek climbed into the trunk, boosting himself up off his knee, and scooted back on the blanket. He patted the spot beside him for Craig to climb in. Craig happily complied, sliding up next to his boyfriend.

“What sandwiches did you get?” Tweek asked pulling the Subway bag into his lap.

“Uh, one is ham and one is turkey,” Craig responded, leaning against the pillows and putting his arm around Tweek. He felt his body relax with comfort, as Tweek unpacked the sandwiches.

“And…you saw her…” Tweek asked, looking up at Craig with wide eyes.

“Yeah, she changed gloves before making our sandwiches,” Craig nodded, and smiled when Tweek sighed in relief.

“Which do you want?” Tweek asked, squirting hand sanitizer into his hand once again before unwrapping the food.

“I’m good with either,” Craig shrugged.

“We-well, no, Craig you have to choose. You can’t just leave it open ended like that, because what if I choose the one that you really wanted and then you resent me and-”

“Turkey,” Craig interrupted, giving Tweek’s arm a squeeze. “And, for the record, I almost definitely won’t end up resenting you over deli meats.”

Tweek smirked, handing Craig the turkey sandwich and a root beer before leaning back against his arm.

The air was becoming increasingly cold now that the sun had completely set. Craig hoped that would mean Tweek would be more inclined to share some body heat once the movie started.

“S-so, what movie is it?” Tweek asked, wiping mustard off his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, uh…” It suddenly occurred to Craig he had been so busy asking Heidi for directions to the theater, he hadn’t bothered to ask what movie was actually showing tonight. He vaguely recalled her mentioning Halloween, and his heartbeat quickened.

“Hi Tweeks!”

Craig and Tweek both turned towards the source of the greeting. Walking towards them was a boy Craig would have sworn before God and country he had never seen before in his life.

“Oh! Hi Jordan,” Tweek replied cheerily, sitting up and away from Craig’s arm.

 _Jordan_.

Jordan was tall. Not as tall as Craig, but easily six feet. He was thin, with spindly arms and long fingers, like Tweek’s. His hair was blond, but far lighter than Tweek’s or even Butters’, and obviously dyed. The near whiteness of his hair stood at direct contrast to his dark brown eyebrows and bright blue eyes. Craig’s stomach and chest filled with acidic loathing.

“I had no _idea_ , you’d be here Tweeks,” Jordan grinned, leaning against the oak tree and crossing his arms. “I thought you said you didn’t _like_ scary movies. I thought that’s why you kept rejecting my invites to the drive-in.”

“The movie’s scary?” Tweek asked, his head snapping to look at Craig in alarm. Craig was too hung up on the plurality of “invites” to respond.

“Pfft, it’s Nightmare on Elm Street, Tweeks. Didn’t you see the poster?”

“Craig?” Tweek asked, his voice a little higher. The tremble in Tweek’s voice shook Craig’s attention from the interloper and back to Tweek.

“Ohh,” Jordan said. His voice was jovial, but Craig noticed an edge to it. “So _you’re_ the famous Craig.”

Jordan held out a long-fingered hand, and Craig stared back at him blankly.

“I just Purelled.” Craig made no attempt to reciprocate the handshake.

“Oh, don’t worry. Me too,” Jordan smiled, reaching down to his pocket and pulling out his keys. Dangling from the ring was a tiny, sparkly bottle of sanitizer. “Tweeks got me this. Isn’t it cute? You can never be too careful, right?”

Jordan winked and Craig clenched his jaw.

“I-is the movie really El-Elm Street?” Tweek asked, tugging at Craig’s sleeve.

“Awww, Tweeks, don’t be scared. It’s just a movie. A couple of us from drama are over in my car if you get scared and want to join. I mean, Craig, you’re totally welcome to join too if you get scared.”

Craig pushed himself out of the car.

“I’ll go ask someone,” Craig assured, giving Tweek’s shin a reassuring squeeze.

“I just told you-” Jordan started.

“Someone who actually works here,” Craig snapped, turning to glare at Jordan. He silently measured their heights now that they were both standing. Craig was definitely taller.

“Fine,” Jordan snapped back, his smile wavering only for a second.

“N-no, Craig! No-nnn-you have to stay!” Tweek was reaching for his hair, and Craig felt the date spiraling out of control.

“I’ll be right back, babe,” he assured quietly.

“I’ll keep you company, Tweeks. Don’t worry. I’m not scared of Freddie.”

Jordan left the tree and sat on the edge of Craig’s open trunk. Craig felt a sudden urge to close the door on his spindly legs.

“Craig,” Tweek pleaded quietly, not taking his eyes off his boyfriend.

“Two minutes,” Craig assured, sure if he had to hear Jordan’s stupid nickname for Tweek one more time, the drive-in may see one more murder tonight than the movies promised.

“So Tweeks, I was thinking about the musical for the winter, and I had some ideas, do you want to hear?”

Craig shoved his hands in his pockets and walked towards the canteen, the image of Jordan’s tiny bottle of sanitizer burned behind his eyes.

He stormed into the crowded hut and walked over to the counter, pushing aside a couple ninth graders, and banged an open hand on the table. Red was standing at the other end of the cash, handing a woman with two small children some popcorn. She looked up with surprise at the sound and then glared at Craig.

“What do you want?” she hissed, walking over to him.

“Where’s Heidi?” he asked. “Is Heidi here?”

“What the fuck? Why?” Red asked, turning her attention to the ninth graders. She reached under the counter and pulled out a bag of Sour Patch Kids and handed it to them. When she turned back to Craig her eyes were slightly wider, and her anger had been replaced with concern. “Why? Is Cartman outside?”

“What? No- what? How the fuck would I know?” Craig asked, caught off guard by the stupid question.

“Cartman has been dragging his fat ass in here every weekend to just fucking stare at Heidi and-”

“Red, I don’t give a shit about that,” Craig interrupted, impatiently. “I want to talk to Heidi.”

Red glared and shot Craig the finger.

“Craig!” Heidi called, walking out from a back room, carrying handfuls of popcorn bags. “You came!”

“Yeah, hi. What movie is playing tonight?” Craig asked, not bothering to curb his tone.

Heidi looked startled, her smile falling off her face. She looked to Red desperately. “O-oh, uh…I think…it’s Elm Street, right Red? And then I Know What You Did Last Summer.”

Red shook her head. “Last Summer was yesterday. Scream is at midnight.”

“O-oh right. It’s Elm Street and Scream,” Heidi corrected, turning back to Craig.

“And you didn’t think that line up was important to share when convincing me to bring my anxious boyfriend to the movies?” Craig asked, leaning across the counter.

“Oh I…I thought I did tell you,” Heidi mumbled, her head snapping between Red and Craig.

“You know, Craig, as an adult man who has the ability of sight, you could have just fucking read what the movies were yourself,” Red interjected defensively, moving her body slightly in front of Heidi.

“We can give you a refund,” Heidi said quickly. Craig could see she was near tears, and his chest tightened with guilt.

“No, it’s just…whatever,” Craig said, running his hand through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t yell at Heidi, but he still had so much pent-up Jordan-directed rage coursing through him. “It’s fine,” Craig said finally, his voice much calmer.

“Most guys like bringing their dates to a scary movie so they can hold them,” Red smirked, crossing her arms.

“Not my fault the guys you date are assholes trying to scare you,” Craig shot back, raising his middle finger.

“Here!” Heidi suddenly shouted, holding out a popcorn to Craig. “Tweek likes popcorn. So maybe…I don’t know…”

Craig took the bag, feeling like an ass.

“Thanks,” he nodded lamely.

“I’m really sorry,” Heidi yelled, as he turned around and walked out, past Cartman, who was indeed standing outside the hut and sharing a joint with Stan Marsh.

Craig stalked back to his car, rolling over in his mind how he was going to explain to Tweek, in front of his new enemy, that he had ruined their first date. He took a deep breath and walked around the car, ready for a fight.

Tweek was curled up in the back of the car, alone. He was snuggled deep in Craig’s jacket, popping Skittles into his mouth. He looked up when Craig came rounded the corner, quickly throwing the candy to the floor and climbing across the trunk to get to him.

“You said we wouldn’t leave the car! You said we could stay in the car!” Tweek chided, his voice quivering with nerves. He reached for his sanitizer and grabbed Craig’s hands. Craig placed the popcorn inside the trunk and let Tweek rub the alcohol into his hands.

“I know,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry. Where’s Jason?”

“Jordan,” Tweek corrected, rubbing sanitizer on the popcorn now. “And what do you mean?! I sent him back to his car! You went to get popcorn?!”

“No, that was, uh, that was Heidi.”

Tweek sighed, tugging at Craig’s sleeve. Craig obliged by climbing into the trunk.

“Why’d you send your friend away?” Craig asked, trying to sound disinterested as he let his arm fall around Tweek’s shoulders.

“Gah! What do you mean?” Tweek replied, his voice still shaking. He reached up for his hair but seemed to think better of it, instead burying his head under Craig’s arm. “Am I the-nnn-only one who listened to the plan in the car?”

“Plan?” Craig asked, running the tips of his fingers over Tweek’s arm. He wondered if Tweek could feel it through the leather of the jacket.

“Yeah, the ‘stay in the car’ plan,” Tweek said, jabbing Craig with his elbow. “The ‘just you and me’ plan. The date plan!”

Craig couldn’t help but smile, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Tweek’s head.

“I-I mean, I thought this was a date,” Tweek mumbled.

“It is,” Craig said quickly. “Or, it was. I don’t know if you want to stay. Jeremy was right. It _is_ Elm Street.”

“Oh,” Tweek replied quietly, too nervous to even correct Craig’s misnomer.

“You wanna go?” Craig asked. “We can still go.”

“No,” Tweek said after a minute. “I want to stay. I want to have our date.”

Craig smiled again, thoughts of Jordan and his sparkly sanitizer running from his mind. He gave Tweek’s arm a squeeze and reached into the bag of Skittles.

“This is our first real date,” Tweek whispered, as the projector lit up the screen.

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Craig lied, resting his cheek on top of Tweek’s head.

A few stars had started to appear in the sky, which was unseasonably clear. Craig looked up at them, and thought vaguely that if this was as good as his life ever got – sitting under the stars, eating Skittles, with Tweek pressed against his side – he could be pretty well happy.

Tweek jumped and shook under Craig’s arm as Freddie Kruger chased a girl through a boiler room. He hid his face against Craig’s chest and Craig wrapped his arm tighter.

“Cr-Craig?” Tweek asked, muffled by Craig’s sweater.

“Yeah, babe?” Craig responded, trying to make his voice soft.

“Do you think you can stay over tonight? In case someone starts attacking us through our dreams.”

Craig smiled.

“Sure, baby.” He rubbed his hand up and down Tweek’s arm. “But we can still leave if you’re scared.”

“I-I’m okay,” Tweek responded, looking up at Craig with big green eyes.

“I’m not as scared when I’m with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do American schools teach physics in metric units? This question has haunted me for a week. The world may never know...
> 
> Big thank you to ambercreek95 for pointing out to me just how much of a struggle Tweek would have with the pumpkin spice latte craze of the fall! 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading. Please, if you can, review - good or bad. I honestly read and reread your comments over and over and it gets me through the days between each chapter. 
> 
> Please stay safe. Love to you all!


	5. Day 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Party! 🎃 👻

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long to come out. 
> 
> Firstly, it’s Halloween which is my all time favourite time of year, so I wanted it to be a good chapter.
> 
> Also, my grandmother is ill so I have been called upon to travel to another province to help take care of her, so that has been most of my last two weeks. 
> 
> Well, that’s enough penance to ease my Catholic conscience. I won’t bore you all with any more excuses. On with the show!
> 
> I don’t own these characters, or these songs, or these words, or AO3, etc.

**Wendy:** Nic, is there anything you need us to bring tonight?

 **Bebe:** 👻🎃👻🎃

 **Nichole:** Hey, no I think we’re good!! Just make sure to wear your costumes!!

 **Nichole:** If anyone needs directions to Token’s let me know

 **Clyde:** i need directions to tokens

 **Stan:** what time again?

 **Jimmy:** guys stop inviting Clyde to things

 **Craig:** ☝🏻

 **Nichole:** @Stan Marsh 7 pm 🙂

 **Wendy:** I literally just told you that.

 **Wendy:** If you actually read my messages.

 **Kenny:** yeah @Stan Marsh get your shit together

 **Kenny:** smarten up

 **Annie:** guys I’m so excited 🎃🎃🎃

 **Nichole:** 😁

 **Token:** Hey guys, I’m late seeing this, but no you don’t need to bring anything. We have the food all covered. Looking forward to seeing you all.

 **Nichole:** In costume!!

 **Jimmy:** I’m not wearing a costume cause it’s against my beliefs

 **Nichole:** What?

 **Token:** You’re Protestant, Jimmy.

 **Nichole:** What beliefs??

 **Jimmy:** my beliefs that I am not 12

 **Kenny:** 😂😂

 **Nichole:** No everyone needs to wear a costume!!

 **Kyle:** And if someone doesn’t?

 **Red:** nic kills you.

 **Nichole:** ☝🏽

**Jimmy:**

**Clyde:** still not sure what i should go as 🤔

 **Bebe:** bitch you better be joking

 **Bebe:** I worked so hard on that costume

 **Clyde:** 🤔

 **Bebe:** Clyde Donovan!! 😡

 **Clyde:** 🤔 🤔

* * *

Craig looked up from his phone. Tweek was still sitting cross-legged at the end of Craig’s bed, a mirror balanced on his knees in front of him while he applied costume-grade makeup.

“Do we really need to go to this thing?” Craig asked, dreading the response.

“Token’s throwing it,” Tweek responded without even looking away from the mirror. He seemed to be drawing on his eyes with a silvery pencil.

“ _Nichole_ is throwing it,” Craig corrected in a mumble, flipping through the channels on his TV. “Token won’t give a shit if we go or not.”

Tweek looked up from his mirror and turned his body 90 degrees to face his boyfriend.

“I-it’s our last Hal-Halloween,” Tweek stuttered. He looked nervous and his eye, now partially covered with silver, was twitching.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Ya know, I think they have Halloween in New York too.”

“Gah! No, I-I mean our last Halloween **here** ,” Tweek clarified, reaching up for his hair, which had been temporarily dyed from it’s normal golden blond to a neon green. “I-It’s our last Halloween with-nnn-your friends.”

“Jesus, Tweek. We’re graduating. Not dying,” Craig mumbled, instantly regretting his words when he saw Tweek’s sudden anxious spasm. He sighed, throwing his phone to the side and sitting up against his pillow. “You don’t even like parties anyway. Plus Stan Marsh and those guys are going to be there-”

“Craig!” Tweek interrupted. His makeup lay forgotten in his lap, both hands now tugging at his hair. “I don’t want you to not do things because of me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Craig mumbled, rolling his eyes away from his panicked boyfriend.

“This is your senior year too, and you already gave up so much for me-”

“Babe, I wasn’t saying-”

“I don’t want you to look back and have regrets about all the things you didn’t get to do because of m-”

Craig leaned across the bed, holding Tweek’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to Tweek’s mouth. There were lots of pros Craig could count for being able to kiss his boyfriend, and he had to admit that being able to bite an anxiety attack in the bud was definitely one of them.

Craig pulled back from the kiss and pressed his forehead to Tweek’s.

“I won’t have any regrets,” he said firmly, still holding Tweek’s face between his hands.

Tweek stared at him, skepticism etched in his expression. He let out a “tsk” sound and pulled away, using his thumb to wipe against Craig’s forehead, where loose green powder had transferred. Craig grinned, leaning back against the pillows.

“Do you think I could borrow your old spaceman helmet?” Tweek asked, picking up his mirror and resuming work on his eyeliner.

“Tweek, you just spent like an hour and a half on your makeup. You’re gonna cover it up with a plastic fishbowl?” Craig grinned, opening a fun-sized Snickers bar he had swiped from his mother’s bowl downstairs.

“That’s how they’ll know I’m an alien, Craig! Otherwise I just look like…the Joker in drag.”

Craig let out a loud snort and kicked Tweek in the back gently. Tweek turned back around to show his own grin.

“If you can find it, it’s yours. Not sure it will fit though,” Craig said, still laughing as he unwrapped another chocolate bar.

“It’s in your closet. I saw it when I cleaned it out,” Tweek replied, pulling down on his cheek so his eye was more open to finish drawing on it. “What do you think?” he asked, letting his cheek go and turning to face Craig.

Tweek’s whole face sparkled. He had dusted a sparkly green powder all over the edges of his hair and jaw lines, and across his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The silvery pencil had drawn large wings out from the corners of his eyes, closing in on his eyebrows, which had been filled in with dark green and covered with glitter. There were tiny green and silver gems pressed all over his cheek bones and above his eyebrows.

Craig thought he looked beautiful. Ethereal, even. Craig thought Tweek might be the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Like some kind of angel who had descended to South Park and gotten stuck. Craig wanted to hide him away – to protect him from the horrors of their town; to not share him with the outside world.

“I like the sparkly things,” Craig replied, gesturing to his own cheek bones for reference. Tweek nodded, satisfied and stood from the bed.

“You gotta change your shirt.” Tweek walked over to the dresser and grabbed the orange shirt he had designed for Craig. He walked back over to the bed and held it out, but Craig caught him around the waist and pulled him back onto the bed.

Craig positioned himself over a giggling Tweek, holding himself up on this forearms and elbows.

“You _sure_ you wanna go?” Craig asked, leaning down so his mouth was over Tweek’s ear. He felt Tweek shiver underneath him and he moved his mouth down to kiss Tweek’s jaw. “’Cause we could just stay home and watch Halloween musicals.”

Tweek giggled again, letting his hands weave into Craig’s hair. “Like you know any Halloween musicals.”

“Uh, the one with the plant,” Craig replied, punctuating it with a kiss to Tweek’s neck.

“Little Shop of Horrors,” Tweek corrected, his nails (painted sparkly green) scratching the back of Craig’s neck.

“The one with the barber and the pies.”

Another kiss to the neck.

“Sweeny Todd.”

“The one with Time Warp.”

Another kiss.

“Craig…” Tweek whispered, but it came out as more of a moan than a protest.

Tweek’s hands had left his hair and had traveled down to the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up. Craig eagerly sat up, pulling the shirt up and over his head. He leaned back down, hungerly kissing the green angel beneath him. Tweek eagerly met him, holding the back of Craig’s neck and dragging it closer. He wrapped his right leg around Craig’s left thigh, pinning him to the bed.

Craig lost his balance on his right forearm and slipped to the side, trying desperately to not break his kiss with Tweek. Tweek didn’t seem to notice, still pressing their lips together. His tongue had found its way inside Craig’s mouth and each time he pulled back, he’d gently bite Craig’s lower lip. The action only made Craig harder.

Craig’s door slammed open and Tweek pulled back with a gasp.

“Craig,- Hi Tweek -Mom says you need to drive me to Karen’s,” Tricia said, barely looking up from her phone.

“Jesus Christ, Tricia! Don’t you ever fucking knock!” Craig yelled, throwing the first object his hand came in contact with (which happened to be Tweek’s hairbrush) at his sister.

Tricia shot her brother the finger before leaving the doorway and walking back towards her room.

Craig turned back to look at Tweek. He could tell, without Tweek saying a word, the moment had been ruined.

Tweek sighed and placed a hand on Craig’s cheek. He leaned up and kissed him gently.

“Come on, put your shirt on and let’s get going.”

* * *

Driving Tricia had not been an ideal part of Craig’s plan for the night. The McCormicks lived across town from the Tuckers, but on the same side of town as the Blacks, meaning it would be counterintuitive to drive all the way home after dropping Tricia off. That meant it only made sense for him to drive up to Token’s party from Kenny’s, and subsequently drive home from the party afterwards. All of which meant that he would need to stay sober all night.

“I can drive home, Craig,” Tweek assured softly, reaching his hand over to squeeze Craig’s leg. “You can drink.”

“But then _you_ can’t drink,” Craig replied, feeling guilty for Tweek’s constant designated driver status.

“I probably wouldn’t anyway,” Tweek shrugged. “But if you’re worried, we can walk home and pick it up tomorrow.”

“Then who’s gonna pick me up later tonight?” Tricia interjected, leaning forward from the backseat.

“I’m not a fucking Uber. Figure it out,” Craig snarled, glaring at his sister in the rear-view mirror.

“Well, I’m not staying overnight at Karen’s, so if no one is there to get me I’m just going to leave,” Tricia snapped back.

“Tricia, you are wildly overestimating how much of a shit I give about you having to walk across town.”

“O-okay,” Tweek interrupted, squeezing Craig’s leg a little harder as they neared SoDoSoPa. “Tricia, why don’t you text me when you’re ready to go and I’ll come get you or Heidi can. She doesn’t drink.”

“Whatever,” Tricia sighed, grabbing her backpack and opening her car door before Craig’s tires had even stopped rolling. “Have a good night… _Tweek_.”

Tricia ran towards the decrepit home, shooting a raised middle finger at her brother over her shoulder as she ran. Craig raised his in return, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“She’s such a bit-”

Craig was cut off mid-thought, Tweek’s lips pressed to his mouth. When Tweek pulled back, Craig tried to follow him, willing the kiss to continue.

“What was that for?” he grinned, putting the car in reverse.

“Just wanted to get a kiss in before I put this giant fishbowl on my head,” Tweek grinned, pointing to the spaceman helmet sitting in his lap.

Craig leaned in and pecked Tweek’s green lips one more time before pulling out of Kenny’s driveway. Tweek picked up Craig’s phone from the console and unlocked it.

“Can I play music?” he asked, already scanning Craig’s Pandora.

“Not Billy Joel,” Craig smiled, laying the hand not on the wheel on Tweek’s knee.

“Billy Joel doesn’t have a Halloween song,” Tweek replied, still scrolling through the songs.

“Whhhat? Billy Joel doesn’t have the perfect song to fit All Hallows’ Eve? Blasphemy.”

Tweek scowled and flicked up his middle finger at Craig before blushing a dark pink at the action. Craig’s chest swelled with a mixture of pride and infatuation.

Tweek turned on The Monster Mash and leaned back in his seat, only to immediately lean forward, squinting out the windshield.

“Oh my god, is that Kenny?”

Craig followed his boyfriend’s outstretched finger towards a tall figure wearing a fireman’s helmet, baggy pants, boots, and nothing else.

“What a fucking moron,” Craig mumbled, focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Stop the car, we have to give him a ride,” Tweek urged, turning down the music.

“What? No, we don’t!”

“Craig, look what he’s wearing. It’s nearly-nnn-winter. He’ll freeze to death. Stop the car.”

“Why do I have to suffer just ‘cause McCormick is too stupid to wear a shirt in October in Colorado?”

Tweek ignored Craig, rolling down his window and stuck his head out. Craig begrudgingly slowed down the car to a crawl.

“Kenny!” Tweek called, waving his hand wildly. “Kenny, get in!”

The fireman turned to look at them, gave an exaggerated squint in their direction and then casually jogged over.

“Stop the car,” Tweek hissed, gently slapping Craig’s arm. Craig sighed and put his car in park. Kenny eagerly hopped in the backseat.

“Hi Tweek, thanks for stopping. Nice hair,” Kenny grinned, holding his hands in front of the heater. As the warm air hit him, his face and chest flushed. “Tucker,” he nodded in Craig’s general direction. Craig rolled his eyes and put his car back in drive.

“I dyed it myself,” Tweek replied cheerily.

“You don’t say,” Kenny smiled. “Well you look great.”

Craig fought between the urges to flip Kenny off or push him out of the moving vehicle.

“Are you a firefighter?” Tweek asked, turning around in his seat to look at Kenny.

“Or a stripper?” Craig said under his breath.

“I’m an _immortal_ firefighter,” Kenny corrected, finally leaning back in his seat away from the heater.

“O-oh…” Tweek replied, flashing Craig a glance. “I-I’m not sure…anyone will know you’re immortal.”

“Yeah.” Kenny gave an exaggerated sigh. “Wouldn’t that be just my luck?”

The boy let out a hearty laugh like he had just told the funniest joke in the world, and Tweek shot Craig a wide-eyed, confused look. Craig wondered if they had just offered a maniac a ride.

“You drunk, McCormick?” Craig asked, trying to catch Kenny’s eye in his rear-view.

“Nah,” Kenny assured, his icy grey eyes meeting Craig’s. They weren’t red or glassy. “Just pumped for the party is all.”

“Not pumped enough to put on a shirt though, huh?” Craig asked, stopping at a red light.

“Well, it’s no Super Craig costume, but I did my best,” Kenny winked, and this time Craig did flip him off.

The Monster Mash bubbled and faded out, while Tweek frantically scrolled through songs. Kenny held out his hand and made a beckoning motion with his fingers.

“Pass it here, Tweekers. I got a song.”

Tweek gave Craig another look, and Craig shrugged and rolled his eyes to the ceiling of his car. Tweek handed the phone back to Kenny, and Craig noticed his hand trembling a bit. Kenny took the phone and scrolled for only a couple seconds before a familiar guitar opened.

> I'm sick of being alone, when are you coming home?  
> Just a glimpse of your face  
> I can remember smelling your hair, I'll meet you anywhere  
> Somewhere that no one can retrace  
> Somewhere where nobody will know our faces

“Hey, I love this song!” Tweek grinned, spinning the dial to turn up the volume. “And _I’m_ an alien tonight!”

“Huh, go figure,” Kenny grinned at Tweek as they pulled up into Token’s driveway. Kenny leaned forward from the backseat and slapped a hand on each of Craig and Tweek’s shoulders. “Well, thanks for the drive boys. I’ll see you in there.”

Kenny leaned slightly closer to Craig’s ear and lowered his voice. “Take your time.”

Kenny gave another hearty laugh and turned to climb out of the backseat.

Craig watched him leave. “That kid is a piece of work.”

He turned to Tweek, ready to make a last-ditch suggestion of getting McDonald’s and watching the stars, but his alien had already slipped the child’s helmet on over his green hair.

“Ready?” he asked, muffled by the plastic.

Craig couldn’t help by grin back, as the chorus to My Alien played.

“Ready.”

* * *

Token’s house always lent itself to a good party. In the summer, they would often end up in the pool out back, and, for the other eleven months and three weeks of the year, the spacious basement provided ample room for lots of people. The Blacks’ residence was usually the location for any party happening, regardless of if Token was the one planning it or not. Craig preferred nights in the basement when it was just him, Tweek, Token, Clyde, and Jimmy, but he had to admit, if he was going to attend a party, Token’s house was a pretty good location.

Despite his perpetual role as host, Token was usually pretty introverted at his own parties. While he was much better at hiding it than Craig, Craig suspected, by the amount of time he spent sanctioned off with him and Clyde, Token would also choose their movie nights over a rager.

“You’re really not gonna drink?” Token asked, pouring some rum into a red plastic cup and toping it off with Coke.

“I have to drive,” Craig mumbled, taking a sip of his pop and resenting Tricia.

“Get Tweek to drive,” Clyde suggested, grabbing a handful of Cheesy Poofs from the bowl that Token had snuck behind the bar with them. “He barely drinks anyway.”

“Or stay over. You and Tweek can have one of the spare rooms,” Token offered, grabbing a Cheesy Poof for himself.

Craig shrugged moodily, thinking how nice it would be to curl up in bed – any bed – with Tweek right now.

“Wai,” Clyde said, his mouth full. He swallowed dramatically, as if coming to a sudden realization. “Does that mean you can’t smoke tonight either?”

“Yeah, dipshit, that’s what it means,” Craig snapped.

“Well, fuck. This party is a bust then. Sober Craig is no fun. Seriously, Craig, seeing you high is like 95 percent of why I hang out with you. And Tweek is the other 5.”

Token laughed as Craig shot Clyde the finger.

Token was dressed as a 1930s gangster. He had on a starched white shirt, a thin blue tie, black suspenders on black slacks, and a black fedora. Clyde was wearing a Denver Nuggets jersey with a number 15 and the name Jokić on the back.

“Craig, I really wish you’d just stay over. I have toothbrushes and stuff, and then you could actually enjoy yourself,” Token implored, taking a long swig of his drink.

“Cr-Craig? Enjoy himself?” Jimmy asked, joining them behind the bar. “Surely you jest.”

Craig shot him the finger as Jimmy pulled out a bottle of tequila from his backpack.

“Wh-who wants to d-d-do shots?”

“Craig’s dry tonight,” Clyde sighed, opening his third beer using Token’s metal bottle opener.

“Boo, y-you whore,” Jimmy smirked, putting back one of the shot glasses.

“Where’s your costume, Jim?” Token asked, eyeing Jimmy’s jeans and plain black t-shirt wearily.

“Y-you-you’re looking at it,” Jimmy grinned, throwing back his shot. “I-I’m a con-con-connn-conscientious observer.”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna be a dead conscientious observer if Nic catches you,” Token grinned, picking up his own shot.

“Well, wha-what’s Craig supposed to be?” Jimmy asked indigently, pointing a crutch at Craig.

Craig ran an open palmed hand under the word Tweek had written on his orange t-shirt: MARS.

“He’s Maaarss, get it?” Clyde answered, mockingly drawing out the word. “’Cause Tweek is a Martian.”

Jimmy turned to Token. “And you’re…Fra-Fran-Frank Sinatra?”

“I’m Clyde,” Token answered, eating another Cheesy Poof.

“You are _not_.” Clyde held a hand over his heart as if he was deeply wounded by the comparison.

“Not you Clyde, Clyde Barrow. Like, Bonnie and Clyde. Nichole’s around here somewhere. She’s Bonnie.” Token craned his neck, searching through the crowd of people to find his girlfriend.

“Du-dude, don’t ca-call her over!” Jimmy hissed. “G-give me a cha-chance to hide.”

Craig could tell, even as a disinterested spectator, how much work Nichole had put into making Halloween themed food and decorations. He knew she loved Halloween, he just hadn’t known she coat-the-entire-room-with-cobwebs-and-cover-the-bathroom-with-fake-blood loved it.

He caught sight of Tweek, leaning against the far wall, talking to Heidi. Heidi was dressed as the rag doll from A Nightmare Before Christmas, and Craig had to admit she looked pretty. Not as pretty as Tweek, but still pretty.

“Hi guys,” Stan Marsh said, walking into Craig’s line of vision. He walked to the bar and reached into the cooler to pull out a bottle of beer. “Have any of you seen Kyle?”

Stan was also in a white buttoned t-shirt, though his was open at the top, revealing a blue shirt with a red and yellow “S” on the front. He had glasses on, and the front fringe of his hair had been gelled into a spit curl.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Token replied, again lifting his chin to try and see over the heads in the crowd. “What’s he dressed as?”

“Oh…uh, I don’t know. I told him I was going as Superman and Wendy was going as Lois Lane and I said that he should be Jimmy Olsen, but I don’t know if he actually did it,” Stan looked uncomfortable, picking at the label on his beer with his thumb nail.

“Whaaat?” Clyde asked dramatically. “You mean he didn’t jump at the opportunity to be your dorky sidekick while you make-out with your girlfriend?”

“Isn’t that just his normal life?” Craig mumbled, loud enough for Stan to hear, and received an angry glare.

“Whatever. If you see him will you tell him I was looking for him?”

“Sure,” Token responded before either Clyde or Craig had a chance to get another jab in, and Stan stormed away.

Craig tracked back to where Tweek had been standing, but instead of Tweek, Heidi was talking to Red, dressed as a devil in a corset costume Craig was pretty sure would make his uncle faint. He scanned the room trying to find Tweek and jumped slightly when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Tweek staring up at him. His cheeks were red under the green makeup and his eyes were unfocused. Craig could tell he was already at least two drinks deep.

“Hi baby,” Craig smiled, wrapping his arm around Tweek’s shoulder and pulling him closer. He gave Tweek a kiss on his temple. “Where’d your helmet go?”

“It got hot, so I took it off,” Tweek answered, a couple of his words slurring.

“It’s easier to see your face paint this way anyway, Tweek,” Token offered. “Do you want some water?”

Tweek nodded, and Token rummaged through the cooler.

“Tweek, will you please tell your boyfriend to drink, so he’s not standing here drinking ginger ale all night like a middle-aged dad?” Clyde asked, offering the bowl of Cheesy Poofs to Tweek. Tweek took a handful but ate them one at a time.

“I told him I’d drive but he said no,” Tweek shrugged.

“Then you should both just stay over,” Token suggested for the umpteenth time.

“We need to get Tricia later,” Craig explained for the umpteen-plus-one-th time.

“Oh, shoot, no we don’t,” Tweek interrupted, looking up at Craig guiltily. “She texted me. Kevin drove her and Karen to your house and they’re staying there tonight.”

“Oh, awesome, and she couldn’t have texted me this?” Craig scowled.

Clyde put a hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Hey. You know what really takes the sting out of being disrespected by a 14-year-old? Beer.”

Craig rolled his eyes, but let Token pour some whisky in his ginger ale.

A loud commotion by the stairs caused all four of them to turn to look.

Butters was walking down the stairs and every light in the basement was reflecting off him. He was wearing, what appeared to be a metal Viking helmet, shiny silver gloves and boots, and a long green velvet cape. Craig vaguely recognized the costume as one Butters had worn when they were young and playing heroes.

Four or five football players (three of whom Craig recognized as going to North Park Elementary) were snickering and pointing at Butters. Fosse said something to Butters that Craig didn’t catch, and it caused the look of pride Butters had sported walking down the stairs to fade into a deep blush of shame.

Any cachet Butters had gotten from Homecoming had dissipated quickly after the game. A kid as weird as Butters hardly flew under the radar, and it was only a matter of time before he was back to doing quirky and annoying things. While most of South Park was familiar with his eccentricities, the students from other feeder schools had no such allegiance. Craig suspected, with the constant pressure of ribbing from his fellow students, Butters would leave this party quickly and wordlessly, as he had with almost all parties he’d attended so far in high school.

“Oh my god! Tweek! Look at you!”

Craig turned around to see Bebe walking up and engulfing Tweek in a hug.

“I love the makeup. It must have taken forever! And Craig, you’re Mars? Very cute! You guys are so cute!”

Bebe was dressed as Harley Quinn. She had her hair in two pigtails, with the ends of each dyed blue and red, respectively. She was wearing a tight t-shirt reading “Daddy’s Little Monster” and red and blue booty shorts with fishnets.

“And Token, you’re a gangster. Cute. Oh my god guys! You’re all so cute!”

“Um, hi Bebe, my angel, love of my life,” Clyde interrupted, waving to get her attention.

“Don’t talk to me. You’re dead to me,” Bebe replied, her demeanor shifting as she turned her back on Clyde. “You’ve ruined Halloween.”

“How?” Tweek asked drunkenly.

“Don’t get involved,” Craig whispered through his teeth.

“Oh? How? How?! Oh, I’ll tell you how, Tweek. We had a plan to go as Joker and Harley Quinn for Halloween and look what he fucking did!” Bebe yelled, gesturing to Clyde’s basketball uniform.

“If it makes you feel better, I was _never_ going to go as the Joker,” Clyde replied gently, reaching out to Bebe. She slapped his hand away.

“That does _not_ make me feel better! We’re the only couple that doesn’t match!” Her voice was getting louder and Craig wondered how much she had had to drink tonight.

“We go together!”

“No, Clyde, we don’t! Because I’m Harley Quinn and you’re, like, some basketball guy!”

“Well, honey, if you don’t think Harley Quinn would date Nikola Jokić, I don’t really know what else to say to you.”

Bebe stomped her foot and stormed off in the other direction.

“Gee, thanks for having my back, guys,” Clyde snapped, turning to glare at Token, Tweek, and Craig.

“Well, in fairness, she’s right. You do look stupid,” Craig said, taking a sip of his, now spiked, drink.

“Okay, _you_ have the word Mars written on your shirt with Sharpie. That’s not even a costume!”

“Hey!” Tweek interjected. Craig wrapped his arm around Tweek and shot Clyde the finger.

“You should have just worn what she told you to, man,” Token shrugged.

“Well, sorry I’m not as whipped as the rest of you,” Clyde replied, slamming his beer down on the counter and walking after Bebe.

“And to demonstrate his independence, he’s gonna chase Bebe like a puppy all night,” Craig sighed, and Token laughed.

“Hey party people.”

Kenny walked over to the bar, trademark grin spread across his face. He placed his empty beer can on the bar and leaned on the counter, holding himself up with his forearms.

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked in a sing-songy voice. Token held up a bottle of rum and Kenny nodded encouragingly as Token poured him a drink.

“B-Bebe’s mad because Clyde didn’t match her,” Tweek answered, taking a sip of his water. He leaned his body into Craig, and Craig tightened his grip so Tweek spun into his chest.

“Bebe’s mad at Clyde? The day must end in ‘y’,” Kenny grinned, taking the red cup from Token and taking a long drink.

“He shoulda just done it,” Token sighed, scanning the crowd. “Matching costumes is quintessential Halloween for girls.”

“And for Tweeks apparently,” Kenny added, tipping his cup in Craig and Tweek’s direction.

“Watch it,” Craig said warningly, though Tweek didn’t seem offended, as he giggled into Craig’s chest.

“Easy there, ‘Mars’,” Kenny laughed, holding up his hands in mock defense.

“But _you_ aren’t matching anyone,” Tweek pointed out, his words still slightly slurred.

“Sure I am, Tweekers.” Kenny pointed at his fireman’s helmet. “I’m matching all the hot people here tonight.”

Tweek laughed again. The sound made Craig wish the party would end so he could sneak Tweek up to the spare room, curl up in the bed, and finish their kiss from earlier.

“Hiya fellas,” Butters said, entering their small circle. His voice was faux cheery, but Craig could see his eyes darting around self consciously.

“Hi Butters,” Token greeted. “Want a beer?”

“Hi Leo.” Kenny’s grin widened. “I like your cape.”

“Oh, uh…thanks,” Butters replied, holding up the hem of his cape to look at it, and then letting it fall. “No thanks, Token. I don’t drink beer.”

“Y-you can have one of my coolers,” Tweek offered, and Token pulled one of the pink lemonades out of the cooler to demonstrate.

“No, uh. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but thanks anyway fellas.” Butters set a fruit tray down on the bar and started rubbing the knuckles of his, now empty, hands against one another.

“What?! You just got here!” Kenny yelled, his normal carefree voice cut with something Craig couldn’t identify.

“Yeah, I…I dunno,” Butters replied. Craig wondered if he ever bruised his knuckles from hitting them against one another so hard.

“I… _I_ l-like your costume,” Tweek offered shyly. Craig could tell, even drunk, he was trying to debate the right thing to say. “Y-you’re Professor Chaos, r-right?”

“Yeah…it’s just…babyish, I guess…” Butters let his voice trail off. He looked at the ground with glassy eyes and Craig wondered how he didn’t get beaten up more often.

“Well, you did wear it when we were like, 8, so,” Craig shrugged, pouring some more whisky into his cup. Kenny and Tweek both turned to glare at him.

“You look fine, Butters. You don’t look any different from anyone else,” Token assured, handing the boy a Coke.

“Yeah, except for looking like a complete fag,” Cartman interrupted, punctuating his slur with a belch as he walked over to the bar. “No offense, Tweek,” he added, reaching a hand over into the Cheesy Poof bowl, even though he had a plate of food in his right hand.

Tweek glared at Cartman, gritting his teeth. Butters let his head drop down, staring at the can of pop hanging limply in his hands. Kenny stormed away, making sure to knock Cartman’s shoulder as he went.

Cartman was dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt, with a large cardboard box strapped to his stomach. The box was crudely painted to look like a breathalyzer, with a coloured scale, large coloured buttons, and an arrow pointing at his crotch with the words “BLOW HERE” written in block letters. Craig imagined the tub of lard had thought himself pretty clever when he came up with that one.

“Fuck off, Cartman,” Token sighed, pulling the bowl of snacks away from the new addition. Cartman pulled it back.

“What? You rather I let him walk around lookin’ like he’s in fucking kindergarten?” Cartman asked, feigning offended outrage. “People are gonna think he’s retarded. Butters, do you want people to think you’re a retard?”

“Well, uh, no…” Butters answered, flicking the tab of his Coke with his thumb nail hard enough to make a sound, but not hard enough to actually open the can.

“See?” Cartman asked, gesturing widely at Butters. “Now give me a drink.”

Token crossed his arms across his chest, making no motion to offer Cartman anything. The larger boy rolled his eyes and reached across the bar to the cooler. He grabbed a bottle of beer and popped the lid against the marble countertop.

“The fuck are you supposed to be Craig?” he asked, looking Craig up and down. Craig’s grip on Tweek tightened protectively.

“I’m Mars, you illiterate fuck,” Craig replied. His voice was level and calm, but he felt his stomach turn knowing the conversation could take a very hard turn at any given moment.

“You’re…Mars,” Cartman repeated. “Like, the planet?” A mean smile spread across his face. “I always knew you were full of hot air, Tucker.”

“Mars is a terrestrial planet, you moron.” Craig felt his voice getting louder. Tweek pressed his body closer to Craig’s and it eased the fire in his belly.

“Have you guys seen Heidi?” Cartman asked, ignoring Craig and turning back to Butters and Token. “Jesus, fuck, does she look fat in her costume.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cartman!” Tweek interrupted. Craig realized it was Tweek who now had the fire in his belly.

“No, I’m super serious. You can pretty much see the cellulite through her tights and she has so many rolls under that dress, I thought she was stealing them from the buffet table.”

Tweek pulled away from Craig and made to step towards Cartman, but Craig pulled him back.

“Hey guys.”

Kenny walked back up behind Butters. His firefighter helmet was gone. He was wearing one of Token’s purple shirts, which was quite frumpy on his skinny body. On the front of the shirt, he had fashioned an “M” out of, what looked to be masking tape that had been coloured green. His underwear were now on the outside of his pants and he had a belt wrapped around his waist, holding up nothing. He had spread eye black all around his eyes and the bridge of his nose, though it looked to be a rushed job by the amount of skin showing through. To tie the look all together, he had wrapped, what Craig noticed to be, the spare room bedsheet around his head like a hood, the remainder falling down his back like a cape.

“Oh my god,” Cartman sighed, rubbing his temple like he was deeply burdened by witnessing Kenny’s costume change. “You’re all so fucking gay.” He grabbed one last handful of Cheesy Poofs before turning and stalking away from the bar.

“Ken,” Butters said in awe, gently touching Kenny’s makeshift cape. “You changed your costume…”

“Yeah, well, I thought Mysterion was cooler than a firefighter,” Kenny shrugged, throwing Butters a wink. Butters blushed and looked back down at the Coke still in his hands.

“Dude, are you wearing my clothes?” Token asked, eyeing Kenny’s garb. He looked more exasperated than angry.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’ll get your shit dry cleaned, Richie Rich.”

“Hey,” Tweek whispered in Craig’s ear. “Let’s go check on our coats in the other room.”

“We didn’t bring co-” Craig began, before catching on. He grabbed Tweek’s hand and pulled him towards the doorway without saying another word to Token or the Dynamic Duo.

Tweek nearly jogged to keep up with Craig as he weaved his way through the crowd, trying to reach the living room.

“Tweek!”

Craig tried to continue on, but Tweek halted in his tracks. Craig did his best to suppress a groan.

Heidi ran over to them. She had a water in her hand and a big smile on her face.

“Hey, Craig,” Heidi said, waving her water bottle at him.

“Hi, Heidi,” Craig mumbled, trying not to resent her.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Tweek.” She pulled at her dress and didn’t meet Tweek’s eyes when she spoke.

“O-oh, sorry, I was just over at the bar,” Tweek answered apologetically.

“Oh, that’s okay. I was getting a lot of compliments on my makeup and I wanted to tell you your tip for applying the blue foundation with a wet sponge worked,” she grinned, still looking everywhere but at them.

“Oh, good!”

“So…” Heidi started, turning her body more to face Craig. “I saw you were talking to Eric.”

“Not really,” Craig shrugged, wishing she would walk away.

“Oh…” she looked down at her feet. “He didn’t…say anything about me…did he?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Tweek answered before Craig could.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy Heidi. She looked up at Craig, imploringly. He stared back, thinking of their conversation in the coffeeshop.

“I mean, he said you looked fat in your costume,” Craig answered.

Tweek’s hand fell out of his. Heidi’s face fell with it.

“Oh…” she said softly, pulling at her dress again.

Craig got the deep sense he had said something wrong but wasn’t exactly sure what. He looked between Heidi, shifting weight between her feet uncomfortably, and Tweek glaring at him.

“Okay, well…thank you for telling me,” Heidi replied. She looked up and her eyes were glassy. She sniffled and Craig didn’t feel any real gratitude coming from her.

“No…problem?” he said, still looking between a sad Heidi and an angry Tweek.

Before he could say any more, Heidi had turned and was walking quickly towards the stairs. No sooner was she gone than Tweek had spun on his heel to face Craig.

“Gah! What the hell, Craig?!” Tweek yelled, clenching both hands in his hair. Craig reached for one but was quickly batted away.

“What?” Craig asked, legitimately unsure why Tweek was so mad at him.

“Why would you-nnn-tell her that?!”

“She…she asked!” Craig replied defensively. He could feel himself getting angry in retaliation to how unfair the situation was. Heidi had asked him to be honest about what Cartman said about her – she had made him _promise_. Now he was being punished for doing just that? What kind of bullshit…

“You called her fat! You called a girl with an _eating disorder_ fat!” Tweek yelled, hissing the words “eating” and “disorder” in a whisper.

“What? No, I didn’t! I said _Cartman_ thinks she looks fat! No one cares what Cartman thinks!”

“Heidi does!”

Craig bit his tongue between his back molars. He wondered if there was still any chance in him and Tweek “checking on their coats”. If there was, he was fairly confident this stupid argument with Tweek would be the last nail in the coffin. He figured his best bet was to swallow his pride, even though he was pretty confident he had done absolutely nothing wrong under the provided circumstances.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Craig said, straining to look remorseful.

Tweek shook his head. He released his grasp on his hair but still looked angry.

“Jesus, Craig,” he sighed before chasing after Heidi.

Craig stood, alone in the centre of the party, watching Tweek go.

This sucked. Everything was going to hell and his silver lining had just run up the stairs. Jesus, all he wanted was to spend his Saturday night at home with his boyfriend and a movie, was that too much to fucking ask for?

Craig shoved his hands in his pockets.

He stormed over to the food table. Nichole had made some kind of “Witch’s Brew” punch, which was steaming with the help of dry ice. He ladled a glassful into a plastic cup and downed it in one gulp. Nichole had added too much vodka, and it burned his throat.

He poured another glass of punch.

All he wanted was to leave this stupid, fucking town and get away from all these stupid, fucking people and their stupid, fucking neuroses.

Once he and Tweek got to college next year, they could stay in every Saturday night. They could watch all the stupid musicals Tweek liked and order pizza and Chinese and spend all day in bed like they did during the pandemic.

 _“Maybe then Tweek will think everything is ‘perfect’,”_ Craig thought and laughed mirthlessly to himself. He poured another glass of punch.

Craig found himself thinking about the quarantine with nostalgia – endless days with just him and Tweek; holding Tweek in his arms every night and waking up to him every morning; the convenient option to simply ignore his texts when he found everyone else’s drama exhausting.

He reminded himself of Grandma Ruby and the worry he had felt not knowing if he was ever going to see her again and felt guilty for looking back on the pandemic with anything but revulsion.

Craig let his eyes roam the room, staring at all his classmates, many of whom he had known all his life.

Maybe he had just outgrown these people.

He poured another glass of punch.

“Woah, easy there, Tucker. Save some for the rest of us.”

Craig’s blood boiled as he turned towards the source of the voice. Cartman was standing on the other side of the folding table, piling, yet another, plate with food.

“Hey, where’d the little missus run off to?” Cartman asked, shoving a donut into his mouth. “Fik ‘er ‘akeup?”

“Watch it, Cartman,” Craig warned through gritted teeth.

“I’m jus ‘aying.” Cartman swallowed the food in his mouth. “If that dude wears anymore glitter, you’ll start passing as straight.”

“Shut it, fatass.”

“Hey! Don’t call me fat you fucking fa-”

Craig’s fist connected with Cartman’s jaw. He felt a crack but wasn’t sure if it was on Cartman’s end or his. Adrenaline pumped through him as all the frustration and disappointment that has been festering within him suddenly found an outlet.

The rest of the room had gone silent, all eyes focused on Craig and Cartman.

Cartman stumbled back a couple steps but caught himself before he fell. His face flashed from surprise, to pain, to anger almost instantaneously. He reared back and ran at Craig, tackling him into the folding table, which instantly collapsed. Craig punched wildly. His positioning (sandwiched between Cartman and the floor) was awkward, but Cartman was vast, so it was easy to land a few good punches.

Cartman must have gotten his own punches in, too, as Craig could feel his right eye swell shut and tasted coppery blood in his mouth. Craig was a good fighter, but Cartman still had at least a hundred pounds on him.

He heard a girl scream and assumed it had to be Bebe. It was the kind of dramatic thing she would do.

“Help me get him _off_ ,” Craig heard Token order in a grunt. He tried to move his head to point his left eye in the direction of the voice. He saw Token tugging at Cartman’s shoulder, holding back a poised fist. Clyde ran out of the crowd, wrapping an arm around Cartman’s neck and pulling.

The action must have choked the boy, because he began to buck wildly. Craig monopolized on the sudden freedom, not by rolling out from underneath Cartman, but by landing another punch to the side of his head.

“Goddamn it, Craig,” he heard Token mutter, still tugging at Cartman.

Craig reared back to punch again, but felt hands grab under his arms and start to drag him out.

“Jesus, stand down Tucker,” Kenny groaned. “You made your point.”

Craig shook Kenny off and pushed himself up. Cartman had finally shaken Clyde and Token. He was standing himself, but looked winded and ready to fall at any second.

On the stairs behind Cartman, Craig caught sight of a green alien, staring in horror and tugging at his hair. He dropped his fists, his urge to fight replaced instantly by the urge to run over and comfort Tweek.

“Oh…oh yeah Tu…Tucker,” Cartman heaved, through laboured breaths. “Real…real fair…Three against one.”

“Token, the party,” Craig heard Nichole hiss, her voice panicked.

“Nichole,” Token replied, holding a hand up with finality. Craig saw, through his bleary vision, Token turn and give her a reassuring look before turning back to Cartman. “Cartman, get the fuck out of my house.”

Cartman turned to him in disbelief. “What?! _He_ punched _me_!”

“Cartman, I’m not gonna tell you again. Get out of here before I call the cops.”

“Whatever,” Cartman grumbled. He spat out blood onto the ground at Craig’s feet. “Screw all you guys. I’m going home.”

He stormed towards the stairs. Token followed him with his eyes until he was sure he was gone, then turned his glare on Craig.

“And that concludes the entertainment portion of the evening,” Clyde announced, stepping into the clearing where the fight had been. “Please enjoy the rest of your night, and yes, Craig Tucker will be signing autographs during intermission.”

A couple people laughed. The music resumed and the crowd dispersed.

“What the **fuck** was that, Craig?” Token hissed once people weren’t paying them any attention.

“He insulted Tweek,” Craig mumbled, letting Clyde press his cold beer to his swollen eye.

Token continued to glare but didn’t press the topic any more.

“What are we gonna do about the food, Token?” Nichole asked, rushing into their huddle.

“It’s fine, Nic,” Token sighed, scrubbing his jaw with his hand. “I’ll go order a bunch of pizzas. Clyde, get some garbage bags and clean up this table.”

“Wait, what? I have to clean?” Clyde asked angrily. “ _I_ didn’t punch Cartman!”

Token silenced him with a glare. Clyde pouted, but walked over to the bar to grab some garbage bags.

“Sorry Nic,” Craig muttered. Now that the adrenaline was dying down, he felt embarrassment replacing it.

Nichole let out a sigh and pressed a finger to Craig’s swollen cheek. He hissed and pulled back from her touch.

“I’m sure Cartman deserved it,” she smiled, before turning back to the party.

“Tweek,” Token said, still using his take-charge voice. Craig turned and realized his boyfriend had left the stairs and was now standing behind him, silently twitching. “Take Craig up to my bathroom and get him cleaned up.”

Tweek nodded, bitting his nails.

Token pointed an intimidating finger at Craig’s chest and leaned in close to his face.

“You owe me a new folding table.”

* * *

Craig stood in front of the sink, standing between Tweek’s legs as he sat on the counter.

“Ow!” Craig yelled, moving away from Tweek’s hand. “Stop! That stings!”

“Yeah, well, it’s alcohol. It’s gonna sting,” Tweek snapped, grabbing Craig’s chin and pulling his face forward. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Craig pouted but said nothing. He let out another hiss of pain as Tweek pressed the cotton ball to a large gash on his forehead.

“Nnn-God, Craig. You’re lucky he didn’t pull out your eyebrow ring,” Tweek mumbled.

“Yeah, I feel real lucky,” Craig mumbled. “Goddamn it, Tweek, OW! That’s enough disinfectant!”

Tweek threw down the cotton ball into the sink. “What were you thinking?! What were you thinking when you punched him?!”

“I don’t know, I was probably thinking, ‘Gee, it sure would be awesome to punch Cartman,’” Craig shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

“Craig, he’s-nnn-like a thousand pounds and he’s a psychopath! He could have-GAH-killed you!”

Craig hung his head, rubbing his temple. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“But he didn’t. I’m fine.”

“You are **_not_** ‘fine’!”

“I’m alive!”

Tweek picked up the cotton ball and pressed it to Craig’s cheek hard.

“Ah! Damn it!” Craig flinched away and grabbed Tweek’s wrist.

“Craig,” Tweek said, cupping his boyfriend’s face with his free hand. His voice was softer and pleading. “We have eight more months here. Can you, like, try not to die?”

Craig stared back into his imploring eyes, and sighed.

“Yeah.”

Tweek let out a relieved breath and picked up the first aid kit, rummaging through it.

“Is Token mad?” Tweek asked after a few seconds of searching, pulling out a package of bandages.

“Probably.”

“Are you gonna talk to him?”

“Nah, I’ll just send him a fruit basket tomorrow.”

Tweek smirked, using his teeth to open the bandage wrapper.

“You…wanna stay here tonight?” Craig asked nervous Tweek would start yelling at him again.

Tweek snorted. “Are we still invited?”

“Oh, sure. He still likes _you_ ,” Craig grinned, pleased that Tweek seemed calmer. “The bigger issue is that someone is gonna have to wrestle our bedding away from McCormick.”

“I think you’re done wrestling today,” Tweek replied, putting a bandage on Craig’s cheek.

Silence took hold for a couple minutes as Tweek continued to try to fix Craig’s battle wounds.

“So,” Craig said, trying to make his voice sound light. “Is this all the ‘senior fun’ you’re so worried I’m gonna miss out on?”

“Well, ideally you won’t start a fight at every event of the school year,” Tweek replied, but he looked up with a smile.

Craig leaned forward and kissed him gently. He took it as a good sign that Tweek let him.

Tweek pressed a bandage to the cut over Craig’s eyes, and pulled back to survey the rest of Craig’s face.

“So, what’s the damaged, doc? Is my modeling career done?” Craig asked, wrapping his hands around Tweek’s waist, and pulling him closer across the counter.

“Well, maybe just on hold,” Tweek said apologetically. “But I hear chicks dig scars.”

“Ah, so I have that going for me,” Craig grinned, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, I hope you liked it! I’ll try not to keep you all waiting as long for the next one. Thank you to anyone who hasn’t lost interest in this story yet 😬
> 
> Big shout out to DaftyPhun, ambercreek95, and Joy for helping me come up with Halloween costume ideas. That’s right, gentle reader, if you saw a Halloween costume in this chapter and thought “what a neat idea!” - I almost definitely didn’t come up with it. 
> 
> For anyone you loves Halloween as much as me or Nichole, can I interest you in giving my Halloween Spotify playlist a chance? I spent an embarrassingly long time making it.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0LZNo3RqcXwTFn9SvH9Chp?si=4H3QDqUrSNqbiUIH9o5ygw
> 
> Lots of love to you all. Stay safe!


	6. Day 68

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig is forced to reflect on the worst week of his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ya’ll.
> 
> So, I’m really sorry this is so late. I know it takes people out of the story for there to be such a gap between chapters. I won’t bore you with excuses, so please accept my apology.
> 
> I won’t say I’m 100% happy with this chapter. In fact, I’m not even close, but I’m at the point where if I don’t post it now I probably never will and I need to get on to the next few chapters. I’m sure there are lots of errors but I’ll try to edit tomorrow. Good luck and please be kind! No beta. 
> 
> Trigger warning for drug abuse. 
> 
> If I ever decide to write another chapter almost entirely in past perfect tense, please someone take my laptop away. 
> 
> I don’t own anything (including the memes I use). Uhhh.....yeah, I think that’s it. Enjoy!

By the first week of November, South Park had already received about a foot of snow. It wasn’t the white, fluffy, Hollywood snow, either. It was the snow that fell heavy, and melted on the way down, so by the time it hit the roads and sidewalks, it was already a grey slush.

Craig could remember the excitement snow brought when he was a kid. Ice skating on Stark’s Pond, sledding on a cancelled school day, having a snowball fight against Stan Marsh and his stupid friends.

He remembered running home from the bus stop after school, dragging Tweek behind him as they both slid on the fresh black ice, trying to make it home before Red Racer started. Tweek would go into the kitchen and make them hot cocoa from scratch.

Now snow just meant waking up early to shovel and freezing to death during football practice.

Craig thought it was an inalienably unfair trait of life that as you got older, everything once enjoyed in childhood had to eventually start sucking balls.

As any lifelong Coloradan would, Craig knew that November snow was only the beginning – a toe in the water, preparing for the splash of winter. Until they were on the other side of April, it was only downhill from here.

So, Craig was pretty taken aback when his boyfriend suggested a weekend beach trip.

“C-Craig?” Tweek had asked, one night after football practice as they were driving around South Park. He had been fidgeting nervously and Craig had worried what would come next. After the Halloween party, Tweek had been pretty quick to forgive and move on, but Craig still got the feeling he was walking on thin ice.

“Mmm?” Craig had asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Do you…do you think Token would take us back to his cottage?”

The question had almost made him break in the middle of the road, the cold from outside seeming to creep into the car and chill Craig’s skin in spite of the car’s heater on high. They hadn’t been back to Token’s cottage since they were 14, and the fact that Tweek was asking now, at a completely non-optimal time, to visit the beach, had caused Craig’s usually peaceful mind to race with the possible implications.

“Why?” Craig had asked, whipping his head around to stare at Tweek. He had pulled over to the curb in front of the park, so he could focus his attention on his boyfriend. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes!” Tweek had answered quickly, a slight defensive tone to his voice. “I just…I’ve been thinking about it…and I just-nnn-I was thinking it’d be nice to go is all…”

Craig hadn’t understood the reasoning. He still didn’t. And he didn’t exactly relish the idea of driving up to Boulder through ice and snow. He knew it would be awful and dangerous and probably take them twice as long to get to the cottage than it would in the spring. And if they were to arrive at the cottage, they ran a very real risk of getting stuck there.

But he also knew Tweek. Tweek, the tiny ball of anxiety, who had surely already run through these scenarios in his head and thought of several more that would never even occur to Craig. He knew Tweek wouldn’t ask this unless there was some reason, beyond Craig’s understanding or not.

And that’s why Craig agreed to go on this stupid fucking trip.

* * *

Craig had been the one to find the bag. He had spotted it while helping Tweek clean the back of his parents’ coffeeshop. He had been the one who held it up to the light to get a better look. He had been the one to suggest what exactly the Tweaks’ “special ingredient” looked like.

He had said it like a joke. He couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said – probably poked fun at Tweek’s near constant twitching, and surely he had thrown Kenny McCormick’s name in for good measure. Whatever he said, however he brought it up, it was lost to him now. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t funny. Tweek hadn’t laughed.

“My parents wouldn’t use _meth_ , Craig, Jesus Christ!” Tweek had yelled, pulling at his hair. “They own a coffeeshop, not a drug den!”

Even now, it felt like a joke or a prank. That’s how it is when you’re fourteen – nothing, even the important shit, seems serious. Nothing feels like it will change your life.

Still, it had been one of those jokes with a kernel of truth. The jokes that, once spoken, linger, echoing in the room long after it’s gone silent. It gnawed at Craig, that tiny bag of white rocks, and he could see it gnawing at Tweek, too, hanging in the air every time they were together. They hadn’t spoken about it for the whole week after finding he bag, but Craig hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

He would lie in bed at night, unable to sleep, scrolling through Google to search for confirmation. He had wanted to convince himself. He had wanted to disprove his null hypothesis. He had wanted to affirm his joke and move on with his life.

He had read every article he could find on the effects of crystal meth and the symptoms of addiction.

Hyperactivity. Anxiety. Insomnia. Paranoia. Erratic shaking – convulsions that can lead to death.

Even without talking about it, Craig suspected Tweek had done similar research. It didn’t take much to get Tweek to hyper-fixate on a possible problem, and Craig could remember looking over in class only to see Tweek desperately pulling at his hair.

“We could ask Token’s mom,” Craig had suggested in a hushed whisper one day while they were walking home from the bus stop after school. “She’s a scientist or something.”

“Gah! No, Craig!” Tweek had replied. Craig recalled Tweek’s nails being so badly bitten, the nail beds were bloody and swollen. “What if it _is_ …something? Th-they’ll call the police! Th-they’ll take my parents away.”

That particular fear had resonated with Craig – not because he gave a shit what happened to Tweek’s parents, but because he could still remember stories from Kenny McCormick about what foster homes were like. Tweek could never have survived in one of those places. Not without Craig.

“Well then what are we going to do?” Craig had hissed back, stopping in the sidewalk and turning Tweek around by the shoulders, forcing the boy to face him. “I’ve been reading and if it _is_ …whatever…well, that shit can be serious dude!”

“Gah! I _know_!” Tweek had started to pull his hair and Craig had to reach up to grab his hands and stop him. “I know…”

They had stood in silence for a few minutes, just facing each other on the sidewalk. Some people turned to look at them as they walked by, giving a fond smile. At fourteen, they had still been a novelty.

“I’ll just have to stop,” Tweek had finally said, looking up with pure determination in his eyes. “I’ll just have to stop drinking coffee.”

* * *

Craig suspected Tweek was more concerned about the act of asking Token for cottage access than he was about any other aspect of the hypothetical trip. As far as Craig could tell, Tweek existed in some kind of mirror world where everyone was perpetually mad at him. Tweek had been convinced since the Halloween party that Token was angry at, not only Craig, but Tweek by association. Craig had tried to explain this wasn’t the case, but logical rational rarely eased Tweek’s mind.

Token _had_ been mad…until about 8 am the next morning, when he texted Craig and asked him to leave the cozy spare room bed where he was snuggled next to a sleeping Tweek and come downstairs to play Smash Bros. until Nichole woke up.

That was one of the things Craig admired most about Token: he always stayed angry exactly the right amount of time – long enough to make you feel like shit, but not long enough that he risked losing the moral high ground.

“Tweek wants to go back to your cottage,” Craig had stated, rather than asked, after football practice the next day. He and Token had been making their way off the field and towards the locker room, but the statement stopped Token in his tracks. He had turned to Craig and given him a stern look. It had reminded Craig of the look his grandmother sometimes gave him – quiet and knowing.

“Why?” Token had asked when Craig didn’t provide further information. His voice was edged in panic, and Craig recognized it as a panic he hadn’t heard from Token in nearly four years. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno,” Craig had answered, feeling like a child being scolded. “Or, I mean, I dunno why he wants to go. I don’t think anything’s wrong. He just…said he wants to go.”

Token had continued to stare at him as if searching Craig’s face for a lie. The rest of their teammates streamed around them like the red sea parting, trying to make their way to the changeroom. Token’s pointed stare had made Craig want to join them. He had to force himself to make eye contact.

“Craig,” Token had whispered, when Craig finally looked up. The field had cleared except for their coaches clearing off equipment. “You’d tell me if-”

“Yes,” Craig had cut him off giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “T, I’d tell you. It’s not like that. He just wants to go to the fucking cottage. For, like, fun or whatever.”

Token’s stare retrospectively stretched on for hours.

“Yeah, I guess we could probably go next weekend,” he had finally answered. He had given Craig one final imploring glance before turning back towards the locker room.

* * *

“Dude, no. You can’t just up and go to my cottage without telling me why.”

Craig had been the one to suggest they go to Token’s cottage for spring break. He had figured it would give Tweek some privacy while coming down from whatever was in the coffee. Best case scenario, Tweek’s parents were just serving some really strong coffee with some weird giant sugar crystals. Worst case…well…

Craig had seen people in movies and in comics coming down from drugs. They mostly threw up a lot and started to go crazy and beg for a hit. Craig had figured it would be easiest if he could be with Tweek during whatever was about to happen, so he could make sure nothing too bad happened. Tweek had flat out refused to come for a prolonged sleepover at the Tucker residence, sure that a week’s stay would permanently turn Laura and Thomas against him. But if Richard and Susan were the people actually _drugging_ him, Craig couldn’t exactly trust them to help in the detox.

The previous summer, a week before they started high school, Token had invited them all up to his cottage for a few days. The cottage was outside of Boulder and was whatever the opposite of rustic was. It had multiple guest rooms, four bathrooms, a flat screen TV, and incredibly fast wifi. Craig had considered it a moment of genius when he came up with the idea to ask Token if he and Tweek could borrow it for a few days.

He had not, however, expected Token to be such a little bitch about it.

“It’s not like we’re gonna wreck the place,” Craig had mumbled back, taking notes on what colours the litmus strips were turning as Token dipped them into each unmarked solution.

“Dude, you can’t just go up to my cottage to have sex with Tweek.”

“That’s not what we’re doing!” Craig had hissed.

“Then why don’t you want any of us there? That last one was blue, Craig. Not green.”

“Most green blue I ever fuckin’ saw,” Craig had mumbled, scribbling out his pH rating and writing over it.

“Seriously, my parents aren’t gonna let me just hand the keys over to two fourteen-year-olds. Come on,” Token had said, as the bell rung, signalling the end of class.

“Fine, then come. But it’s not, like, a party, Token. It’s just…”

Token had stared at Craig the way Token always did – wise beyond his years. Token always had a way about him that made him more adult than most of the actual grown-ups in South Park. Craig had wanted to tell Token what was going on. He had wanted to break down and tell Token what he thought Tweek’s parents had been doing to him for years. He had wanted to tell Token about all the research he had done and ask for advice or opinions or just have him say Craig is being irrational. He had wanted to tell Token how scared he was.

“Who’s having a party?”

Clyde had suddenly joined their lab bench, leaning across the table on his forearms.

“No one,” Craig had replied sternly, turning back to Token.

“Craig and Tweek want to go up to my cottage on break,” Token had replied, packing up his bag.

“Dude!” Craig had yelled, glaring at Token.

“What? You still won’t tell me why it’s so important you go alone.”

“They probably want to have sex,” Clyde had guessed, hopping backwards to sit on the lab bench in front of them as the room cleared out.

“You know what? Fuck off,” Craig had scowled, flipping both boys off as he picked up his backpack and walked towards the door. He had seen Token and Clyde look at one another before Token reached out and grabbed his arm to halt him.

“Look…if it’s really that important, I’ll take you guys up. I’ll just…read on the beach or something so you guys can be alone.”

“Cool! I’m going too,” Clyde had grinned, jumping down from the bench.

“Uh…” Token had started diplomatically.

“No,” Craig had intercepted.

“Oh, well too bad it’s not your cottage, Craigory.” Clyde had stuck out his tongue and smirked. “Bebe and I just broke up two days ago and I’m not staying here for a whole week alone while you guys all leave town. I’m coming too.”

* * *

**_Token Black added Craig Tucker to the group_ **

**_Token Black added Tweek Tweak to the group_ **

**_Token Black added Clyde Donovan to the group_ **

**Clyde:** eyyyyy

 **Clyde:** hi friends

**_Token Black added Kenny McCormick to the group_ **

**Clyde:** and craig

 **Clyde:** HI KENNY

 **Craig:** 🖕🏻

**_Token Black changed the name of the group to_ Cottage this weekend?**

**Kenny:** HI CLYDE!

 **Clyde:** ummm????

 **Clyde:** its november????

 **Clyde:** what are we gonna do at a cottage????

 **Kenny:** go swimming ✌🏻

 **Clyde:** ?????

 **Clyde:** ❄️⛄️❄️

 **Kenny:** oh sorry donovan I didnt realize you were a pussy

 **Kenny:** my bad

 **Clyde:** wait

 **Clyde:** this isnt like a THING right

 **Token:** Hey guys, Craig and I were talking about going back to the cottage, just for some fun (not a thing @Clyde Donovan), and wanted to know if you guys were free this weekend.

 **Kenny:** that 💯 sounds like an orgy invite but ight

 **Kenny:** also I cant because I told butters I would help him with his art project

 **Clyde:** wait so paRTYYY???

 **Clyde:** if were going to have a cottage party we gotta invite jimmy this time

 **Kenny:** but you guys have a blast not swimming ✌🏻

**_Clyde Donovan added Jimmy Valmer to the group_ **

**Token:** It’s not really a party. Craig just suggested we hang out a bit before the holiday rush.

 **Jimmy:** oof

 **Jimmy:** afterthought

 **Jimmy:** feels bad

 **Token:** @Kenny McCormick you can invite Butters if that’s easier. I don’t mind if he wants to come.

 **Token:** I’m gonna invite Nichole if we’re only going for a few days.

**_Token Black added Nichole Daniels to the group_ **

**Clyde:** iTs nOt ReAlLy A pArTy

**Clyde:**

**_Kenny McCormick added Butters Stotch to the group_ **

**Jimmy:** wait what is this?

 **Craig:** cottage

 **Craig:** this weekend

 **Butters:** Hi fellas!

**_Clyde Donovan added Bebe Stevens to the group_ **

**Jimmy:** doooowwwwwwwnnnnnn

 **Kenny:** hey leo want to do your painting at tokens?

 **Token:** Okay, hi everyone, Craig suggested we all head up to my cottage this weekend. Is everyone cool with that?

 **Jimmy:** Craig Tucker logic:

 **Jimmy:** *ruin Tokens party*

 **Jimmy:** *make it up to Token by forcing him to throw another party*

 **Craig:** 🖕🏻

 **Bebe:** when are you going?

 **Kenny:** when is punching cartman ever “ruining a party”

 **Butters:** Sure! That sounds like a lot of fun!

 **Token:** @Bebe Stevens Idk, probably Friday after school. We don’t have a game that day.

 **Butters:** I’ve never been to a cottage before!

 **Bebe:** I can’t go ☹️😭😭

 **Bebe:** I have plans with Wendy on Friday night

 **Jimmy:** don’t worry I will be your date Clyde

 **Clyde:** 😘

 **Bebe:** wanna catch these hands Jimmy?

**_Bebe Stevens changed Jimmy Valmer’s name_ to HOMEWRECKER**

**Nichole:** I can drive you up Saturday if you want, @Bebe Stevens

 **Nichole:** I have gamming club Fridays anyway

 **Bebe:** 😍🥺

 **HOMEWRECKER:** 👀

 **HOMEWRECKER:** guess I’m the ninth wheel again

 **Kenny:** you arent a ninth wheel jim

 **Kenny:** its an orgy

** NOV 13, 2:15 PM **

**Token:** Okay, is everyone good to meet in the back parking lot?

 **Clyde:** SHOTGUN

 **Nichole:** Drive safe ❤️ see you tomorrow!

 **Kenny:** those are not the rules of shotgun

 **Kenny:** you have to see the car @Clyde Donovan

** NOV 13, 2:36 PM **

**Token:** Still missing Butters and Clyde. Are you guys coming?

 **Butters:** Oh! I’m already out here!

 **Butters:** I don’t see you though…

 **Craig:** clyde

 **Craig:** move your fucking ass

 **Kenny:** leo im literally standing on the bed of cartmans truck and waving at you

 **Butters:** Oh! I see you!

 **Token:** Alright, @Tweek Tweak I’ll send you the directions to the cottage and you all can get going. Jimmy and I will wait for @Clyde Donovan

 **Tweek:** okk

**_Token Black shared a location_ **

* * *

The bus ride that day had been hell. Clyde’s father had dropped them all off at the bus station early Sunday morning. Their bus from South Park to Denver left at 8 am, but their bus from Denver to Boulder didn’t leave until 1 pm. Clyde and Token had ventured off from the terminal to try and find something to eat for breakfast, and Craig had offered to watch the luggage (and Tweek).

It had only been 12 hours. 12 hours since Tweek had his bedtime cup of coffee. That’s all it had taken for the tremors to start.

They weren’t like normal Tweek tremors either. They weren’t sudden or accompanied by a small shriek. They were constant and accompanied only by Tweek’s soft moans. Any hope Craig had held onto that Tweek’s parents weren’t killing their son died in that bus terminal.

By the time they reached Boulder, caught a cab over to Token’s cottage, and unpacked their bags, it had been nearly 3 pm. Clyde had wanted to order pizza, but Token had told him that no one delivered this far out of the city.

Craig couldn’t remember being hungry, though he must have been. He hadn’t eaten all morning, and he couldn’t remember eating the night before because he was so nervous about the trip. Tweek hadn’t wanted to eat either, so Craig took him out to sit by the reservoir.

They sat in the sand and looked out at the water. A couple children were playing on the beach and running near the water, while their parents sat off to the side staring at their phones. Craig had hated those parents. He remembered staring at them with fury while they ignored their kids. Those kids could fall in the water and drown, and their parents would never know because they weren’t doing their jobs.

_Parents should protect their children._

“You cold?” Craig had asked Tweek, because he wouldn’t stop shaking, even though it was pretty warm for a spring day in Colorado.

“Kinda,” Tweek had whispered, drawing his knees up to his chest.

Craig had taken his jacket off and wrapped it around Tweek’s arms, rubbing them gently and willing the shaking to stop. When he looked over, he had seen beads of sweat glistening on Tweek’s forehead.

Tweek had looked so pale he was grey. It was scary to see Tweek look like that – all zombie like. Sometimes, in his worst nightmares, Craig could still see grey Tweek – shaking and sweating on the beach of the reservoir.

* * *

“Can I put on music?” Tweek asked, reaching for Craig’s phone.

“Sure babe,” Craig responded, not even bothering to prohibit Billy Joel. By the state of the roads and the increasing volume of traffic, Craig could tell this ride was going to take a lot longer than he had hoped, and it was unrealistic to think Tweek could go the entire trip without playing any of his favourite artist.

“Gosh fellas,” Butters said, his voice sing-songy and buzzing with excitement. “I’m awful glad you invited me. I’ve never been to a cottage before.”

“So you’ve said,” Craig mumbled, and received a sharp elbow to the side from Tweek.

“I mean, once I was in a bomb shelter, but that’s not really the same thing, I don’t think,” Butters continued, either not having heard Craig or simply ignoring him.

“W-well, I’m sorry it’s not nicer weather for you to go,” Tweek said, still scrolling through Craig’s phone, probably looking for the perfect Billy Joel song for driving down a highway to the cabin you detoxed in.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Butters replied, turning from the window to face forward. “You can’t control the weather. Hey! Remember when we used to play at superheroes and you could control the weather?”

Tweek laughed politely, and Craig rolled his eyes. When he checked his rear view he could see Kenny smiling fondly at Butters.

“Oh, they’re on their way,” Tweek announced, holding up Craig’s phone for the car at large. “They found Clyde and they’re leaving now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Craig mumbled again. This time he received a sympathetic smile from Tweek rather than a jab to the ribs.

“So, they’re, like, what? Half an hour behind us? And the traffic is getting worse,” Kenny pointed out, leaning forward from the backseat. “Do either of you have a key to this place, or are we just gonna sit in the driveway…?”

Craig mentally kicked himself for not seeing the obvious flaw earlier. Of course they didn’t have a key. Token had the only key. God, this trip was off to just the start it deserved.

“We’ll stop to get groceries,” Tweek suggested brightly. “I think I remember there being a corner store near by. Or we can just stop in Boulder. We can get some stuff for supper tonight.”

Craig looked over at Tweek with a mixture of surprise and pride.

“Tweek: the voice of reason in catastrophe,” Kenny nodded impressed, vocalizing Craig’s thoughts. Tweek leaned back in his seat, looking a little more self satisfied than before.

A quick google search showed that there had been a small drug store near Token’s cottage, but it had closed in the last few months, due to the pandemic. Craig thought the reminder of the virus would cause Tweek’s anxieties to spike, but he seemed to roll forward, quickly finding a grocery store that was only a few miles out from the cottage.

Craig felt impressed at how skillfully and calmly Tweek was able to direct them, not only to Boulder, but through this detour. Tweek seemed to be immune to any of the fears plaguing Craig’s mind about returning to the cottage.

The snow was worse in Boulder than Denver, and even South Park. The roads weren’t yet plowed and several times Craig’s tires lost traction. He tried to remain calm, but the severity of the road conditions was starting to hit him. He was trepidatious to leave his car in the parking lot when they finally reached the grocery store.

“We’ll be really quick,” Tweek urged. “Besides, Jimmy says they aren’t even past Denver yet.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather be stuck in Token’s driveway than here,” Craig replied, putting his car in park.

“We’ll be quick,” Tweek repeated, climbing out the passenger door.

Craig took a deep breath, as if he was about to do a high dive, before climbing out of the car. Kenny had the hood of his thin sweater pulled up and synched around his face and Butters was blowing into his gloveless hands, his breath coming out in visible puffs. As soon as Craig had shut his door and locked it, they both turned towards the grocery store and started walking across the snowy parking lot. Tweek, wearing his blue face mask, waited on the other side of the car for Craig, his hand stretched out. Craig grabbed it and gave a small smile, that only required a little force.

Once in the store, the group decided to divide and conquer. Kenny and Butters headed over to the cereal aisle to grab some non-perishables, and Tweek lead Craig over to the far aisle of the store to grab some eggs and dairy.

“You’re not enjoying yourself, are you?” Tweek asked, loading Craig’s arms up with milk, butter, and sliced cheese.

“What part am I supposed to enjoy?” Craig asked, his voice coming out more snippy than intended. “Nearly killing us by driving across counties with my all season tires? Or making the drive with Stan Marsh’s best friends?” 

Tweek looked up at him, and Craig could tell he was falling into a guilt spiral.

Craig took a deep breath. He wanted to hug Tweek, but his arms were too full.

“Why did we come here, babe?”

“Because,” Tweek replied, reaching a hand for his hair, but stopping himself and letting it drop. “I don’t know when we will be back here…”

“So?” Craig knew his voice was raising, and an old woman grabbing sour cream a few feet away turned to give them a startled look. “It’s not exactly a memory I want to relive.”

Craig could see Tweek open his mouth under his mask, as if he was going to say something, then, after a few seconds, let it close.

“I’m going to get some orange juice,” he finally said, before turning and leaving Craig standing alone with the dairy.

* * *

The first night had been the worst. Not just of the trip, but probably of Craig’s life. Withdrawals weren’t like the movies. Craig had mentally prepared himself for crying Tweek, angry Tweek, Tweek who threw things and begged for drugs and coffee and tried to sneak out to get high. Craig had been ready for those reactions. He had been ready to fight.

But Tweek hadn’t done any of those things. He hadn’t been angry or mean or even irritable. He had been sick. And Craig had been scared.

It hadn’t taken Token very long to puzzle out what was going on. He always seemed to know what was happening in their lives even before they did.

“Why’s he not drinking coffee, Craig?” he had asked when they first arrived at the cottage.

“Is he feeling alright, Craig?” he had asked the first time Tweek excused himself to vomit in the bathroom.

“Do you think it’s his appendix, Craig?” he had asked at supper, when Tweek refused to eat any of the hotdogs Clyde had barbequed, instead opting to curl up on the couch holding his stomach.

Even then, Craig had known Token didn’t really think the problem was Tweek’s appendix. Token was smart. He had done better in health class than any of them, and singlehandedly carried their group presentation on drug abuse in grade seven. Token knew the signs.

He just hadn’t expected to deal with them at fourteen.

When Token and Clyde had gone to bed, Craig sat up with Tweek, stroking his hair and holding it back when he needed to throw up. He tried to feed him Gravol, but Tweek just wretched it back up again, and eventually Tweek stopped even trying to take it.

Craig hadn’t been religious at fourteen. He still wasn’t. It had always felt culty and insincere to stand in a church, repeating the same thing as all the people crowded in around you to a magic man in the sky.

Craig had seen a lot of bullshit in South Park, and he couldn’t rule out at the possibility that there was an all powerful being up there looking down at them, but if there was, he was sure He didn’t care about Craig.

Still, that first night, in Token’s cottage, Tweek shivering – head in Craig’s lap, and a pool of sweat forming around him on the couch, Craig found himself begging silently in his head.

_Let him get through this. Please, God, let him get through this._

* * *

Even with their trip to the grocery store and the time it took Craig and Kenny to push the Pinto out of the cumulated snow, Craig’s car was at the cottage a solid hour waiting for Token.

They sat in the car, Butters playing “I spy” and Craig trying his best not to rip his own eyes out. Kenny and Tweek had humoured the boy at first, but the game seemed to be wearing on even them now, as they weren’t so much guessing as replying “I don’t know, what?” every time Butters spied something.

Craig stared out his windshield at the cottage. There was no doubt it was beautiful. Large and colonial, the building was bigger than most houses in South Park. When they had been young, Token would bring him and Clyde to the cottage in the summer as a fun distraction while his parents worked in their respective studies. Craig always liked those times – he liked any time he could leave South Park.

Now, staring up at the grand building, covered with snow and foreboding, the cottage didn’t remind him of happiness. It didn’t remind him of childhood or fun. It reminded him of the worst time in his life.

He had thought he would lose Tweek here. He had thought the last words he spoke to Tweek would be spoken in this cottage. He had been too young to understand why it bothered him, but old enough to know it did.

He knew Token had been back to the cottage since. Clyde had too. He used to invite Craig, and would often encourage him to bring Tweek, especially if Bebe or Nichole was coming. Craig would always decline, and eventually the invitations stopped. Craig was fairly confident Tweek didn’t want to relive this part of his life, and _he_ certainly didn’t.

Craig looked over at Tweek, fiddling with his phone, trying to find a song. Why _did_ Tweek want to be here?

“Oh, fellas!” Butter squealed, pulling himself into a kneeling position on the backseat and turning around to look out the back window. “I think that’s them!”

“You didn’t say ‘I spy’,” Kenny replied, his head leaning against the window and his eyes closed. He didn’t open his eyes when he spoke but did smile when Butters let out a giggle.

Craig followed Butters’ pointing finger and looked out the back window. Sure enough, Token’s black SUV was sliding down the unpaved, over-iced roads. It was going so slow Craig wondered if Token had shifted gears the entire trip.

“Fucking finally,” Craig muttered, already ready for this weekend to be over. He turned off the car and climbed out.

Token looked exhausted. He seemed to have aged about five years in the three hours since Craig last saw him.

“The roads are really bad,” Token said, once Craig navigated the slippery driveway over to the parked SUV. “We passed like three cars off the road on our way up.”

“Well how long did jackass take to get out of the school?” Craig asked, helping Token pull the suitcases out of the trunk and set them on the ground.

Token responded with an exaggerated eyeroll. Craig turned around to see Clyde already over at his Pinto, laughing with Tweek and reaching into one of the grocery bags Butters was holding.

“Can you explain to me again, _why_ Tweek so adamantly wanted to come _this_ weekend?” Token whispered, pulling the retractable handle out of his suitcase and dragging it up the walk.

“No,” Craig answered honestly, slinging Jimmy’s duffle bag over his shoulder and following him. “But I wish that _I_ had gone off the road on the way up, because that would have beat the shit out of hanging out with Butters Stotch and Kenny McCormick for three hours.”

Token snorted out a laugh in response and unlocked the front door.

The cottage looked the same as Craig remembered. Shiny floors. High ceilings.

“Seriously, dude, why the fuck did you invite them?” Craig asked, not bothering to lower his voice to a whisper.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Craig, don’t start,” Token sighed, throwing his bag on the ground by the stairs.

“What? Are you, like, friends with Kenny McCormick?” Craig pressed, trying not to think about how much he sounded like his sister when she was involved in some petty drama with her preteen friends.

“No, but, I mean,” Token sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes, looking like an overworked mother, caught in the middle of her children’s disagreement. “Okay, what is this supposed to be? ‘Cause it kinda sounded like a reunion or something when you told me, and I figured you’d want him here for that. Or, like, Tweek would want him here. I don’t know.”

“That’s stupid,” Craig shot back, fighting to keep his calm tone. “You don’t celebrate bad shit. Like, ‘oh, hey, remember that time our friend almost died?’”

“Okay, what about, ‘remember that time Kenny McCormick saved Tweek’s life?’”

Craig scowled at this but said nothing. Token let out another sigh as Clyde helped Jimmy over a particularly icy patch on the front step. He lowered his voice before continuing.

“I know it’s not your ideal weekend. It’s not mine either. But we’re here, and we’re safe.”

Token gave Craig a pointed look on the word ‘safe’, and he wasn’t sure if he was referring to the driving conditions or the other thing.

* * *

“He’s not getting better, Craig.”

They had been there three days before Token pulled Craig aside to speak to him.

Tweek couldn’t keep anything in his stomach, and he had stopped trying. He had a fever that wouldn’t go down, no matter how many times they put ice on his head or Token drew him a bath. He hadn’t, to the best of Craig’s estimation, gotten any sleep in the time since they had gotten to the cottage, which was extreme, even by Tweek standards.

Every day and every night, Craig sat up with Tweek, holding the tiny boy, wrapped in a blanket, in his lap and stroking the sweaty bangs off his forehead. Sometimes Token sat with them. Sometimes Clyde did.

Craig couldn’t tell when exactly Token figured it all out completely. He didn’t think Clyde ever really did – not unless Token had told him. Most of those early days, after the first night, were a blur, brought on by the lack of sleep and the ever-present fear that Tweek’s shaking would stop, permanently.

“We’re out of our league here,” Token had whispered, further vocalizing the fears Craig was afraid to voice. “We don’t know what we’re doing.”

Craig remembered looking over at the clump of blankets on the couch. Clyde had been kneeling on the ground beside Tweek, trying to convince the boy to take a bite of Pop-Tart.

“I think we should call my mom,” Token had finally said, causing Craig to snap to alertness.

“W-we can’t,” Craig replied. He remembered thinking he voice sounded like Tweek’s – panicked and sleep deprived.

“Craig, she’s not going to be mad at him. We’ll tell her it’s not his fault. She’ll understand, and she’ll know what to do!”

Token had looked as panicked as Craig felt.

“They’ll take him away,” Craig mumbled, running his fingers through his greasy hair. He had felt a little out of breath, like he had been treading water for a long time and was running out of steam. “They’ll arrest his parents, and they’ll take him away. You know they will!”

“Craig, please don’t make me watch him die.” Token’s voice had been pleading.

The boys had stood at an impasse. It was hard to tell how long the deadlock lasted. Minutes had felt like hours that week, and days bled into each other in one large clump. Time didn’t exist in Token’s cottage – not the spring break when they were fourteen.

At some point Token had walked away and Craig had ended up back on the couch, Tweek’s head in his lap. He couldn’t stop Token from telling his mother any more than he could stop Tweek from shaking. Craig felt like he had absolutely no control over his own life.

“A-am I g-going to die?” Tweek had asked, in a hoarse voice.

“No, babe,” Craig replied with false confidence. “You’re going to be fine.”

Looking back, Craig couldn’t figure out how a whole day passed between his conversation with Token and the moment he heard the doorbell ring, but it must have because he remembered looking out the bay window and seeing the moon reflecting off the water. He could remember wondering why Token’s mom would ring the doorbell when she must have had a key. He could remember Token opening the door and turning around, prepared to face whatever was about to happen next. He could remember, not Mrs. Black silhouetted by the porch light standing in the doorway, but Kenny McCormick.

* * *

Tweek was making supper. It was already pretty late, but Tweek insisted. Butters volunteered to help, and Tweek had allowed him the low risk job of washing and cutting vegetables. Based on the number of pots and pans the two blonds had already dirtied, Craig suspected they were preparing a feast.

As soon as they were all in and settled, Token went upstairs to call his parents and Nichole to let them know they were there safe. Craig wondered if he would tell Nichole to stay home with Bebe rather than brave the icy roads to Boulder tomorrow morning.

Kenny had offered to light a bowl and calm everyone’s nerves after the drive, but Token prohibited him from lighting up inside the cottage, banishing the boy to the backyard, with a quickly rolled joint. Jimmy and Clyde had gone with him initially, but both had since returned, slightly more red-eyed.

Craig sat at the kitchen table watching Tweek. He was laughing at something Butters was saying and stirring some kind of sauce. He looked peaceful, and Craig wondered how he could be so calm in a place that had seen so many of his demons.

Craig wasn’t calm. He was antsy. Token’s cottage seemed to have less air than the outside world, and Craig had to regularly catch himself struggling to breath properly. Every corner of the house held a memory of a shaking Tweek and a helpless Craig. Every minute here only reminded him of his inability to protect his boyfriend.

Craig felt his chest tightening and decided to walk outside, hoping the fresh air from the reservoir would fill his lungs properly. He stood silently, careful not to disrupt Tweek and Butters in the kitchen or Jimmy and Clyde in the living room, and walked out the sliding door to the small terrace.

Kenny was standing on the edge of the deck, leaning against the far-right post holding up the roofing, staring out at the water. He was holding the half smoked blunt in his hands, but it looked like it had burnt out.

Craig walked over and leaned on the parallel post.

Kenny didn’t turn to look at him, so Craig cleared his throat.

“You out here getting high?”

“Sure,” Kenny shrugged, not turning away from the water. “Isn’t that how you celebrate that one time you got someone clean? By getting…less clean?”

Craig scoffed and rolled his eyes but didn’t feel any real annoyance. Chemically induced might be the only kind of calm he would be able to find this weekend, and Kenny was usually pretty generous with his stash.

“Can I have a hit of that?”

The blond turned with a grin. “Sure you can, Craig Tucker.”

He pulled out an old zippo lighter from his back pocket and flicked it until it lit. He held the flame to the blackened end of the joint and put the other end between his lips, sucking in until the paper lit. He handed the seared blunt to Craig before letting out the smoke from his mouth easily. Craig took his own drag, holding it in as long as possible and willing his mind to stop racing.

“That _is_ why we’re here, isn’t it?” Kenny asked, reaching his hand back out for the joint. Craig complied reluctantly.

“To get high?” Craig asked. His voice came out choked and breathy, still holding in as much smoke as he could. He released it and let out a shameful cough. Kenny snickered and Craig flipped him off.

“No, to celebrate,” Kenny laughed, taking another drag.

“What’s there to celebrate?” Craig asked, annoyed that Kenny seemed to have the same theory as Token. He reached out his hand and took back the joint greedily.

“I dunno,” Kenny shrugged, turning back to the water. “I just figured that’s why Tweek wanted to be here.”

“I don’t know why Tweek wants to be here,” Craig said. He hoped his voice would sound annoyed or exasperated, but it just sounded defeated. He hated the idea that Token and Kenny had theories on what his boyfriend wanted and needed while he had no fucking clue. It was like this house and everyone in it was a judgement on Craig’s inadequacy.

Kenny made a sound in the back of his throat that may have been sympathy or simply acknowledgement. He took another drag before handing the joint back to Craig.

“I think Butters should paint this lake for his project.”

“What?” Craig asked, his quickly fogging mind confused by this sudden change in conversation.

“This lake. It’d be a cool picture, dontcha think?” Kenny was back to staring at the water, almost dreamily.

“Can Butters even paint?”

“No,” Kenny snorted, but regained himself with a mixture of amusement and guilt for laughing. “Nah, he can’t really, but he took senior art. I dunno, I feel like a lake would be pretty easy.”

Craig shrugged, having no opinion on the matter. He remembered the joint was in his hand and took another drag.

“Does it hurt to drown in a frozen lake, do ya think? Like do you think you freeze first or drown first?”

“Jesus, fuck, McCormick,” Craig coughed, feeling both alarmed and not at all surprised by Kenny’s choice in conversation. “Do you have to be such a freak all the time? Can’t you just be normal?”

The words had come out a little harsher than Craig intended, Token’s motherly warning to play nice nagging at his mind, but Kenny turned to give him a smile and a wink.

“Workin’ on it.”

Kenny took the cigarette back, took one final drag and threw it in the sand, stomping it out with his heel. He nodded his head towards the sliding door.

“Come on, the food smells fucking delicious and I’m starved.”

When Craig hesitated, Kenny turned back to him.

“Tucker, he obviously wants you here with him. Be with your boyfriend.”

* * *

“Hey there, Tweekers,” Kenny had whispered sweetly, leaning down to address the boy held to Craig’s chest, without even so much as a nod to Craig.

“H-hi K-Ken…” Tweek had replied, barely opening his eyes. “Nnn-am I-I d-dead?”

“Nah, man,” Kenny said in the same quiet voice. “Doesn’t hurt this much when you’re dead. Here. I brought you somethin’.”

Kenny had leaned down and grabbed a paper coffee cup. He held it out to Tweek and Craig reached up to bat his hand away.

“He’s not drinking cof-”’

“Easy, Tucker,” Kenny had replied, holding the cup out of reach and speaking to Craig like he was an unruly horse. “It’s tea.”

Craig had continued to glare at Kenny but let him get close again to offer Tweek the cup.

“I-…I don’ wan’ it,” Tweek had finally spit out, turning his head into Craig’s chest.

“Yeah, I agree. Tea sucks,” Kenny nodded sympathetically. “But the thing is, Tweek, you gotta drink something or you aren’t gonna feel better.”

Tweek had looked up at Kenny skeptically, but eventually took the cup and took a few sips. He had promptly handed the cup back to Kenny, but Kenny had pushed it back.

“One more big gulp and I’ll leave you alone,” Kenny had assured. Craig had thought he saw Kenny smile when Tweek rolled his eyes and took back the cup, drinking nearly half before handing it back.

Kenny had taken charge of the cottage quickly and efficiently. Craig figured he had seen the process of coming down from a high so many times with his parents and older brother, that detoxing someone was probably second nature to him by that point in his life.

Token had been put on kitchen detail, told to make soups and ramen and smoothies. Kenny told them that Tweek needed to have a ton of water or tea every day to ensure he didn’t succumb to dehydration, both from his vomiting and constant sweating.

Clyde had been in charge of distractions. Kenny told them the best way to make the time pass more quickly for Tweek would be to make sure he always had movies to watch or games to play. Clyde had picked out as many old DVDs as he could find and kept them constantly rolling in the living room.

Craig had been responsible for relaxing.

“He’s already wrapped in a blanket, lying on a couch, what more can I do?” Craig had asked, both annoyed and desperate.

“Not _him_ relaxing, Tucker. _You_ ,” Kenny had replied. “You’re that kid’s rock. You need to get a grip or he’s just gonna completely spiral out.”

That first night Kenny arrived was the first night Tweek slept, with chicken noodle soup in his belly and Grease playing on the flat screen. He had still been shivering, but the moaning had subsided. Token had fallen asleep in the recliner next to the couch and Clyde had fallen asleep, sitting on the floor with his head falling back onto the couch.

Kenny had stood up silently as You’re The One That I Want started to play and gestured with his head for Craig to follow him out onto the terrace.

“Fuck, this place is nice,” Kenny had said once they were out looking at the water. He had pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and flicked his Zippo lighter open. He had held the pack out to Craig, who had obliged with little hesitation.

They had stood in silence for a while before Craig asked the question he didn’t want to ask but needed an answer to.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Kenny had said, nodding as he blew out a stream of smoke. “Like, half of getting clean is actually _wanting_ to and your boyfriend is one stubborn motherfucker. D’you remember when we used to play superheroes? That kid was always the last one standing.”

Craig had felt his eyes sting and he turned away from Kenny.

“You should get some sleep, man,” Kenny had said once their cigarettes burned down to the filters. He had thrown his own in the sand and stomped his heel on top of it. “You look like death warmed-over.”

Craig had sniffed, wiping his nose across the cuff of his sleeve and turning back towards the cottage. He had stopped himself before going inside, turning back to look out at the blond staring out over the water.

“Are you gonna tell Stan and them?” he had asked, trying to make his voice sound more threatening than scared.

“Nah,” Kenny shrugged without hesitation. “This is Tweek’s business. And yours, I guess. Not theirs.”

* * *

Craig felt like he was waiting for something horrible to happen, but he wasn’t sure what. Supper was uneventful. Tweek, with the help of Butters and eventually Token, had made mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, fresh biscuits, and beef stew in the pressure cooker. The food, while plentiful, was no match for seven teenage boys, and was gone in less than half an hour.

Craig felt bad that Tweek had spent three hours preparing a meal that was gone in a sixth of the time, but he didn’t seem bothered, happily discussing his hopes for the winter musical with Butters.

“What’s for dessert?” Clyde asked, patting his stomach and leaning back in his chair.

“Jesus, Clyde,” Token sighed, but was unable to hide his amused smile. “You just had three helpings of stew.”

“Hey, don’t body shame me!” Clyde yelled sitting back up with indignance.

They made s’mores on the fireplace while Jimmy and Clyde finished their Mario Kart tournament, and then Kenny suggested they watch Grease. Craig wondered if Kenny remembered that Grease was the first movie they watched when they detoxed Tweek. He suspected by the pointed look he gave to Tweek after the suggestion that he did.

The musical wasn’t exactly exciting, and between the stress, the food, and the pot everyone but Craig had drifted off by the time Danny and Sandy drove into the sky.

Craig surveyed the room, carefully examining his sleeping friends and his sleeping boyfriend wrapped under his arm. They seemed content, even happy. No one else seemed to get the same dizzying nausea from being back in this place – just Craig.

It was like Token’s cottage was some microcosm of senior year – an experience that everyone else seemed to tolerate and even revel in, while Craig just wished it would end.

He just wanted to leave. He wanted to take Tweek away from here – away from this cottage, away from Colorado. He wanted to take Tweek away from all Craig’s failures and he wanted to start again. He wanted to be somewhere where he had never needed Kenny McCormick’s help in protecting his boyfriend, or worn a cardboard box on his head at Eric Cartman’s instruction, or refused to dance at a stupid seventh grade dance.

He wanted a fresh start.

And Tweek just wanted to keep bringing up the past.

* * *

By Friday morning, Kenny had decided Tweek was through the worst of it. The convulsions had stopped and his fever had died down. Tweek’s appetite had returned, with a vengeance, and he had been moving away from his liquid diet, even having a burger from the barbeque the night before.

“He’s never gonna be, like, normal,” Kenny had told Craig in private. “Like, he’s always gonna be a bit of a spaz. Meth kinda fucks you up like that.”

Craig figured that was probably okay. He didn’t need Tweek to be normal, he just needed Tweek to stay alive.

The constant night watch had lessened as Tweek’s symptoms did, and by the time Tweek was able to take care of himself, the vigil had reduced to mostly just Craig.

They had decided to leave the next morning and the tagalongs seemed to be trying to make the most of their time left at the cottage. Token had taken a bike ride into town, promising to bring back takeout for supper for their last night. Kenny and Clyde had gotten high and were playing video games on the flat screen. Craig had followed the sound of soft piano, knowing it would lead him to Tweek.

> Well it’s been quite a while since I lifted my head,
> 
> And I’m sure the light will hurt my eyes
> 
> I see the way that I been spendin’ my days,
> 
> And reality has caught my by surprise.

Tweek had been sitting on the terrace, wrapped up in Craig’s jacket and staring out at the water. Craig could still remember the relief that ran through him at seeing the normal rosy colour in Tweek’s cheeks when he looked up at him.

“Hey,” Tweek had said with a smile, as he leaned over and paused the music on his phone.

“Hey,” Craig had replied, lowering himself into the chair next to Tweek’s. “You doin’ okay?”

Tweek had nodded and looked back out at the beach.

 _Tell him you love him,_ Craig had told himself. _Kiss him and tell him you love him and tell him you don’t know what you’d do if something happened to him._

“I’m scared to go back,” Tweek had said.

“Hmm?” Craig asked, shaken from his train of thought.

“I just…I’m scared that I won’t be able to handle it…”

“We can handle it.” Craig had reached over and squeezed Tweek’s hand.

“We can handle anything.”

* * *

“Whatcha doin’ out here?”

Craig turned around to see Tweek standing in the doorway of the terrace. He had Craig’s letterman jacket wrapped around his shoulders and he was holding two steaming mugs.

“Just watching the stars,” Craig replied turning back to look up at the sky. He reached out his arm, beckoning for Tweek to come forward. Tweek obliged, letting Craig curl his arm around Tweek’s shoulders and tuck him into his chest. He giggled and it made Craig’s heart speed up in a much more pleasant way than it had all day.

After a few seconds Tweek pushed away and held up one of the mugs.

“Tea?” Craig asked wrinkling his nose. While Tweek had continued to drink tea as a coffee replacement, Craig could never acquire the taste. It always reminded him of that week when he was fourteen.

“Hot chocolate,” Tweek smiled. “I just made it.”

Craig accepted the mug eagerly and took a large gulp. Tweek always made hot cocoa from scratch and it tasted significantly better than the powdered shit his mother would make.

“Do you remember when we were little, I used to make hot chocolate during Red Racer when it was snowing?” Tweek asked, leaning back against Craig’s side, and looking up at the stars with him.

Craig smiled at the memory and kissed the top of Tweek’s head in reply.

They stood in silence for a while. Craig knew Tweek wanted to talk – he always wanted to talk – but he appreciated the time Tweek allowed them to just be together, under the stars and drinking hot cocoa.

“I-I’m sorry I made you come here,” Tweek finally said, so softly Craig wondered if he was talking to himself.

“Hmm?” Craig asked, tilting his head to look down at Tweek.

“I just, I-I know you don’t like it,” Tweek said not making eye contact and toeing his shoe against the patio. “I know it’s hard for you.”

Craig felt a shot of guilt at this, as if he had failed Tweek by not loving this cottage excursion.

Tweek resumed his silence and Craig mulled over his next words, not sure what emotions he wanted to express out loud.

“Why do _you_ want to be here?” he finally asked, trying to put just enough influx on his words to get his point across. “Doesn’t it remind you of…that week?”

Tweek pulled back, not enough to separate them, but enough to have his eyes meet Craig’s.

“ _That’s_ why,” Tweek said, his large green eyes wide and imploring. “I want to remember that week. What we went through.”

“Why?” Craig asked, his voice getting louder and more hysterical.

“’Cause I’m proud!” Tweek replied, his own voice matching Craig’s volume. Craig could see his cheeks redden, even in the dull light coming from the glass door behind them, and Tweek looked away.

“Th-that was…the hardest thing I ever – nn – did…” Tweek said, holding his mug in two hands, but not taking a sip. “I could have…GAH, I could have _died_ , Craig. It was hard but I did it and that’s like…th-the bravest thing I ever did.”

It seemed like cruel irony to Craig – the time Tweek felt most proud of, was the same Craig was most ashamed of.

“With – nnn – with everything going on with school, I didn’t know when we’d be back here, and I j-just…I wanted to make sure we did. I-I wanted to see it one last time, because…because I need to be brave! Because we’re leaving, like, everything we know, and…J-Jesus Christ, I-I’m really scared, Craig.”

Tweek dropped his gaze back down to his shoes and inched closer to Craig.

“I wanted to remember a time when I was brave.”

Craig set his half empty mug down on the ground and pulled the boy into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. It hurt him. It hurt him to know Tweek was scared and it hurt him to know that there were things out there that Craig wasn’t going to be able to stop from getting to them.

But Tweek wasn’t a damsel. He was a fighter. He was brave. He was always the last one standing when they played superheroes.

It seemed absurd to Craig that anyone could handle being here, but Tweek could.

Tweek could save himself sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I know this chapter was different from others. The rest will probably not be as dark. 
> 
> If you like Bunny, please feel free to check out my first Bunny fic [**Believe Me**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695874)
> 
> On a personal note, my grandfather is very unwell right now and I am unable to be with him (due to restrictions on travel in the east coast of Canada because of COVID). I would really appreciate anyone willing to keep him in your prayers if you pray, or your thoughts if you don’t. 
> 
> All my love. Stay safe.


	7. Day 81

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone,
> 
> So it would seem the rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
> 
> So here's the thing. When I started this sequel, I really, honestly believed the pandemic would be over by now. I had no idea of the scope of this. Because of that, the beginning of this sequel is just simply not as relatable to the current state of the world as I worked so hard to make the first story (a fact that has been pointed out to me multiple times). 
> 
> Because of that, I seriously debated abandoning this story. Then, I started getting messages both on here and on Tumblr asking me to continue the story, and while I felt embarrassment from the people calling me out for the faulty predictions in this story so far, I think I'd feel more guilty abandoning the people who have supported me since April. So I'll make you a deal. I promise to do my best to bang out the rest of this story, if you promise to do your best to ignore the incongruities between this story and the real state of the world. Deal?
> 
> Also, this chapter is about American Thanksgiving, which I have never celebrated. I assume it's like Canadian Thanksgiving but snowy and after Halloween, so that's how I wrote it.
> 
> I still don't own anything (and am losing things by the day). Please enjoy :)

“You could write about Stripe.”

“Write what about Stripe though? It’s a supposed to be a challenge you’ve overcome.”

Craig looked down at the loose-leaf paper he had been scribbling ideas on (and subsequently striking ideas from) for the past hour.

College applications still weren’t due for a couple months, but in a rare fit of alacrity, he had decided to get a head start on the essay portion of his application to Columbia. Incentive had not been an issue – for one, Craig not only wanted desperately to expedite his departure from South Park. For another, he wanted everyone at Columbia to know how eager he was, not only to study there in the fall, but also to attend the Space Studies program in the coming summer.

English, unfortunately, had never been Craig’s favourite subject, and writing anything longer than a text message (and sometimes even one of those) felt a little like pulling teeth to Craig.

English did, however, fall squarely in Tweek’s wheelhouse.

“You could write about dealing with the pandemic,” Tweek suggested, wiping down the table next to Craig’s. The coffee shop was mostly empty now, as most people were home preparing for Thanksgiving dinner with their families, and Tweek’s constant cleaning seemed like more of an anxious habit than a real necessity.

“Everybody’s gonna write about that though,” Craig mumbled, still staring at his paper accusatorily.

Tweek sat down across from Craig at the table and set his dish rag between them.

“I-it doesn’t really matter-nnn- _what_ you write about, Craig. I’m sure they just want to see _how_ you write.”

Craig let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t respond, instead opting to dig his index finger into the damp rag in front of him and trace it around the table.

“You could…” Tweek started and let his voice die out. Craig looked up, hopeful for another suggestion.

“You could…write about dealing with a boyfriend who has anxiety,” Tweek suggested. His voice, while softy, was steady, but his eyes darted around the store and refused to meet Craig’s.

“You’re not something to ‘overcome’,” Craig said quickly, hoping if he nipped this bud quickly enough, he could stop Tweek’s train of thought from becoming consumed with the self doubt painting his face.

Tweek met his eyes and let the corner of his mouth tug into a smile, but there was a sadness in it.

“Tweek,” Richard’s sing song voice called from the backroom. “Come help me with this bag of beans in the back.”

Tweek kicked out from the table with a jolt so violent, his chair fell backwards. For a minute, he hesitated in place, turning between the door to the backroom and the fallen chair. Eventually he seemed to decide on the bag of beans and hopped over the chair to run towards his father’s voice. Craig let out another sigh and stood from the table to pick up the chair.

They had had this conversation before. Tweek expressing remorse over being this great burden on Craig’s life; Craig trying his best to convince Tweek this simply wasn’t the case. No matter how many times Craig protested, Tweek never seemed to believe him, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to drive the point home.

He told him he loved him. Often. Token had suggested Craig give tangible examples of things that he loved about Tweek, but emoting wasn’t exactly Craig’s strong suit, so he just said the words as often as he could and hoped it was enough.

Some days, it evidently was not.

“Did I hear you talking about your college applications, Craig?” Susan asked from behind the counter. She had been so quiet while she sat balancing the books that Craig had all but forgotten she was there and flinched slightly when she spoke.

“Yeah,” Craig replied, regaining his composure and sitting back down at the table. “I have to choose something to write about that shows how I overcame adversity.”

Susan pressed a long finger to her chin and closed her eyes in thought. She had long, delicate fingers, and they reminded Craig of Tweek’s. Craig silently reminded himself to tell Tweek later how much he loved his hands and watching those fingers play piano.

 _How’s that for tangible?_ he thought, flipping Token off in his head.

“Oh!” Susan exclaimed, surprising him once again. “You could write about coming out as gay in a small town!”

 _Ah yes, I’m sure the university will be very sympathetic to two kids forced together via yoai and monetary support_ , Craig thought, and instantly felt guilty for thinking the word “forced”, especially given Tweek’s current mood.

“Yeah, maybe,” Craig answered noncommittally, and shoved the useless loose-leaf into his back pocket.

“You two are getting so old,” Susan sighed, her voice sounding heavy with nostalgia. “Your parents must be so excited you’re applying to schools. I know I wish Tweek was.”

For the third time in five minutes, Susan’s words stunned Craig and he gave a start, looking back up at the woman.

“Wait…wha-” he began but was interrupted by the backroom door slamming open.

Tweek flinched at the noise the door made when it hit the wall and pulled his apron off over his head.

“Mom, Dad says he’s g-gah-gonna close up early, so can we h-head over to Craig’s now?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Susan answered, giving Tweek a kiss on the cheek when he walked over to the counter. “Have fun and call if you’re going to stay over.”

“’Kay,” Tweek answered, turning back to Craig with a small smile. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah,” Craig answered, still feeling a little shellshocked. She _wished_ Tweek was applying to schools? What the fuck did that mean? Of course Tweek was applying to schools.

Craig walked over to the counter in a daze, barely registering Susan’s kiss on his cheek.

“You’ll tell your parents happy Thanksgiving, won’t you?” She asked, as Craig grabbed Tweek’s hand and pulled him towards the door. Craig barely had the wherewithal to nod.

* * *

Laura Tucker had ordered some fancy pies from a bakery in North Park, and Craig had volunteered to pick them up with Tweek before returning to the party. When Craig agreed to be pastry chauffer, he was eager for the opportunity to have some alone time with Tweek before the mayhem that was sure to be the Tucker Thanksgiving dinner.

He had anticipated Tweek playing Billy Joel and singing along and holding his hand and maybe parking somewhere to make out for a bit. He had not anticipated the uncomfortable silence, while he sped down the freeway and Tweek chewed on his cuticle.

“Are you mad at me?” Tweek finally asked, whipping his head around to look at Craig.

“I-” Craig began, not sure how to continue. He wasn’t exactly sure what emotions he was registering. It didn’t feel like anger. More like sadness and fear.

“’Cause I’ll come up with better essay topics, I promise,” Tweek rambled, not giving him a chance to respond.

“No, I…” Craig cut himself off and ran a hand through his hair. Craig peaked at his boyfriend out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t interrupt this time. He took a breath and tried to decide what emotion he was going to express, but before he could, “Are you not applying to college?” spilled out.

Tweek blinked surprised, and his guilt-ridden expression was replaced with one of confusion.

“I…I don’t…no, I mean, no I don’t think so.”

Craig tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Craig worked hard to keep his voice even and emotionless, but he worried that the quiver gave him away.

“I didn’t… _not_ tell you,” Tweek answered, still sounding confused. “I never said I _was_ going to college.”

“We talk about college all the time!” Craig yelled, sure now that his emotion was obvious.

“Yeah, _you_ going to college,” Tweek answered, talking slowly like Craig was stupid. “I never said I want to go.”

“That’s how you get a job, Tweek. You have to go to school to train for it,” Craig answered back, trying to make his voice sound even more condescending.

“Yeah, _you_ do, because _you_ want to be an astronaut. But I’m not even sure what I want to be.”

“I thought you wanted to be an actor,” Craig interrupted, running his fingers through his hair again. “That’s why I sent you all those links about Columbia’s drama program.”

Craig saw Tweek reach for his hair and the angry voice in his head died down, replaced by an equally loud protective one. Craig gently pulled the car over to the shoulder and parked. He threw on his hazards before reaching over and grabbing Tweek’s hands. Tweek looked at him with trepidation but didn’t pull away.

“Craig…” Tweek said softly, looking down at their hands. One of his cuticles was bleeding from being bitten too hard. “My parents can’t afford to send me to Columbia.”

Craig closed his eyes, feeling like a jackass. He had suspected this to be the case but felt guilty for forcing Tweek to utter it aloud.

“Yeah…but…that’s what student loans are for, right?” Craig suggested, leaning his head down so he was in Tweek’s line of vision. “I mean, my parents can’t help a lot either, but I’m gonna get a loan and-”

“Yeah, but that’s _Astrophysics_ , Craig,” Tweek interrupted, his voice squeaky. “You’ll definitely get a job. And I…might…not…”

“Well, then I’ll pay off your loans too,” Craig said, feeling his dream about sharing a Columbia dorm with his boyfriend slipping between his fingers.

Tweek gave him an unimpressed look. “I wouldn’t let you do that. Not for this. I don’t even _want_ to go. I don’t like school – it’s a lot of pressure!”

Craig stared at him in silence for a long minute, debating if he wanted to ask the question he dreaded the answer to.

“So what about New York? Are you even gonna go or are you just gonna stay here?”

“They have coffee shops in New York,” Tweek said quickly. “I’ll get a job as a barista.”

Craig starred back, feeling unconvinced. He wanted to believe Tweek, but the escape plan which had felt so solid this morning now felt flimsy and delicate. Tweek put a hand on his cheek, forcing Craig to meet his eyes.

“I’m not staying any place you aren’t.”

* * *

By the time they got to the Tucker’s residence, Tricia was camped out in front of the TV, watching a rerun of the previous year’s Macy’s parade. She called Tweek over as soon as they walked through the door, and he went with minimal resistance and a quick peck on Craig’s cheek.

The uncomfortable silence had resumed after they picked up the pies and persisted for the rest of the ride home. It didn’t have the same tense heaviness that it had before they talked, but Craig felt a sense of mourning. Tweek did play music, but he didn’t sing along, so Craig assumed he had sensed the mood as well.

Craig walked into the kitchen, feeling gloomy. His mother was bustling around, stirring pots and cutting vegetables.

“Need help?” Craig asked in a mumble, placing the pies on the table and sitting down in front of them.

“Hi honey,” Laura answered, not looking up from the squash she was currently hollowing. “That would be great. Could you peel those potatoes?”

Craig rolled his eyes, instantly regretting his offer to help, but walked over to the counter to grab the potatoes and a paring knife.

He peeled in silence for a couple minutes, his stomach still twisting in knots.

“Mom?” he asked, not looking up from his potatoes, and still deciding if he was going to vocalize his question.

“Hmm?” she replied, chopping up a carrot.

“Did you…” Craig tried to figure out the proper way to phrase his question. “date anyone before Dad?”

Laura let out a laugh. “Oh sure honey. I dated a few guys in high school. Only one really seriously, though, before your father. Jerry Sanders.”

Craig chewed on his tongue, wondering how deeply he wanted to get into this.

“What happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We just sort of grew apart after high school. He moved away, and we didn’t see each other as much. I think we just wanted different things in life. And then I met your father-”

Laura cut herself off and turned to look at Craig.

“Why are you asking?” she asked with a healthy mixture of suspicion and concern.

Craig shrugged and continued to peel his potatoes.

“Did you and Tweek have a fight? Is everything okay-”

“Yes Mom, Jesus,” Craig groaned, rolling his eyes with exaggeration. “Everything’s fine. It was just a question.”

Laura gave him a final accusatory look before turning back to her carrot. Craig swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Knock, knock,” Craig heard his uncle’s voice from the front door in lieu of a real knock. “Anyone home?”

“In here!” his mother yelled, barely lifting her head back up from the cutting board to shout.

Skeeter walked into the kitchen, carrying a sixpack under his arm. He ruffled Craig’s hair from behind and Craig dropped the potato in his hand to shoot his uncle the middle finger. Red followed her father into the room, not bothering to look up from her phone.

Skeeter walked over to Laura and set the sixpack on the counter next to her cutting board, turning and giving her a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, Laur. Tommy around?”

“He was upstairs,” Laura replied, glancing over at the clock on the wall. “But I guess the game’ll be starting soon, so he’ll probably be down for that.”

As if on cue, Thomas walked into the kitchen with a loud “Hey” and a hearty slap on his brother’s back. “Just in time. The game’s about to start.” Thomas turned to look at his son sitting at the table. “Craig, you want to join us, football star? It should be a good game this year.”

“No,” Craig responded, with zero hesitation.

Skeeter let out a loud laugh and grabbed a couple beers from the sleeve. “The Cowboy’s cheerleaders just not do it for you, Craig?”

“Jesus Christ, Dad,” Red mumbled, not trying to hide her disgust at Skeeter’s thinly veiled homophobic joke. She sat down at the table, flicking away a stray potato skin without looking up from her phone.

A few minutes after Thomas and Skeeter walked back out into the living room, Tricia leaned her head into the kitchen, Tweek standing behind her looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Craig, Dad and Skeeter kicked us off the TV. Can we watch the parade in your room?”

“Sure, whatever,” Craig answered with a shrug, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the potatoes and not on his trembling boyfriend.

Tricia ran from the doorway before Craig could change his mind, but Tweek hung back, bouncing from one foot to the other.

“Do…uh…do either of you -nnn- want to…wa-watch with us?” Tweek asked, looking between Red and Craig rapidly.

“Nah, I’m…on potato duty,” Craig answered, looking up from his work and holding up the vegetable for effect. He tried to look apologetic, which wasn’t too difficult, given the guilt he felt over his flimsy excuse. He could feel Red staring at the side of his head with a raised eyebrow.

Tweek stood in the doorway another minute longer, before Tricia called his name from upstairs and he walked away reluctantly.

Craig returned his gaze to the potato in his hand, skillfully avoiding Red’s inquisitive look.

Laura walked over, throwing the apron Tweek had given her a few Christmases ago over the empty chair at the small table.

“I have to run over to the Donovan’s for a minute,” she said, tying her long blonde hair up in a messy bun. “I left the second turkey in their oven. Do you think you two could watch over the stove while I’m gone?”

“Sure,” Red responded sweetly, finally turning her eyes away from Craig to look up at Laura. “No problem.”

Laura gave Red a kiss on top of the head before walking out the kitchen door.

Craig could see Red lean back in her chair to watch Laura walk out the door before turning back to glare at him.

“Alright, so what’s up your ass?” she asked, leaning forward across the table. She kept her voice in a whisper, though Craig doubted anyone could hear anything over how loud his father and uncle had the game blaring in the other room.

“What do you mean? Nothing,” Craig answered, still peeling.

When he didn’t look up to meet her eye, Red slapped her open palm against the table in front of him a couple times until he set down the potato and looked up, annoyed.

“Are you and Tweek fighting or something?”

“No? Why?” Craig asked, trying to keep his face passive.

“Well you normally jump at any chance to lie all over him, and I just watched you turn down the opportunity so that you could continue to peel root vegetables.”

Craig rolled his eyes and went to pick up his knife again, but Red grabbed his wrist.

“Is it what my dad said, ‘cause he’s just-”

“No, Jesus, Red. I don’t give a shit what Skeeter says,” Craig replied, pulling his wrist away and not bothering to keep his voice low.

“Then what’s wrong?” Red said, refusing to let it go.

Craig sighed, scrubbing the side of his face with his hand. He was starting to get a headache and the increasingly familiar fatigue that he had grown to associate with talking about his feelings was setting in.

“Tweek doesn’t want to go to college.”

Red stared at him, as if waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she held up an open-faced palm in a “what” gesture.

“So?” she asked, as if he had just offered completely irrelevant information. Craig stared back, matching her incredulous attitude.

“So, I’m just a little shocked, seeing as we’ve been talking about it for like a fuckin’ year,” Craig answered, the anger he hadn’t allowed himself to release in the car building up again. It was far easier to lose his temper with his cousin than with Tweek.

Red let out a laugh, which only made Craig madder. “When has Tweek ever talked about wanting to go to college?”

Craig racked his brain. Surely Tweek had brought up what he wanted to study or what life at Columbia would be like. Craig was confident that they had had many conversations about it, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to think of any instance where Tweek had brought it up.

“I don’t…everyone’s talking about college and where they’re going to go,” Craig answered defensively, promising to think of an example later.

“Not everyone wants to go to college, dumbass,” Red shot back, superiority in her expression. “ _I’m_ not going.”

“Yeah, but you never wanted to go,” Craig answered. Red had wanted to be an auto-mechanic since they were little. When she was 11, she had used the fact that she would never need a degree to win an argument with him about why mechanics were better than astronauts. “And Tweek is really good at school.”

“Nice,” Red responded, her glare hardening.

“You know what I mean.” Craig rolled his eyes, not really concerned if he had hurt Red’s feelings. 

“Look,” Red said, waving her hand around with undeserved finality. “If you are really gonna be so arrogant that you’re ashamed of your boyfriend for not getting stupid letters behind his name, then you really don’t deser-”

“It has nothing to do with that!” Craig yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. He saw Red’s eyes open briefly with surprise before her steely gaze returned.

They both sat in silence for a minute, waiting to see if Skeeter or Thomas would come in to check on the disturbance. When they didn’t Craig let out the breath he was holding.

“The only reason I picked New York was because of Tweek,” Craig said, lowering his voice again.

Sympathy crossed Red’s face. “Oh…and he said he’s gonna stay here now?”

“No, he said he still wants to come, but- ow! Damnit Red!”

Red had kicked him under the table, all sympathy gone from her face.

“Then what’s the issue?! You’re just creating problems in your own relationship,” she hissed.

“If he’s not in school, what’s keeping him there?” Craig finally spat out. He felt slightly proud of himself for finally being able to vocalize his concerns, until he saw the stark judgment painted on his cousin’s face.

“So…let me get this straight. You want him to do something he doesn’t want to do just so you can feel comfortable that you have him locked down? That’s, like, super toxic.” There was venom in her words, and though he didn’t want to admit it, once said out loud they made Craig’s stomach twist with guilt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Craig mumbled, even though it was exactly what he meant.

“Look, this may come as a shock to the town of South Park, but you and Tweek are, in fact, separate entities. He’s allowed to have his own dreams and plans. And if you don’t think your relationship can survive Tweek trying to be his own person, then you’re right.”

With that, Red shoved her phone in her pocket and stood up from the table.

“I’m going to go watch the parade with your sister and your boyfriend. Enjoy your potato.”

* * *

Laura Tucker was a very good cook. Maybe not as good as Tweek, but certainly impressive. Craig tried to focus on how good the food was rather than the judgemental looks from his cousin and the imploring glances from his boyfriend.

It occurred to him about halfway through dessert that he could probably choose this dinner as the topic of his essay to demonstrate his fortitude in the face of difficulty.

After supper, Tweek volunteered to wash the dishes, and though Craig was tired from both the tryptophan and the day’s emotional exertion, he quickly volunteered to help.

The boys stood at the kitchen sink in silence, shoulder to shoulder. Tweek was washing and Craig was drying. When they first started, Tweek had shot him apologetic glances every couple of minutes, which only made Craig feel worse after his scolding from Red. The looks had stopped, and now Tweek seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid Craig’s eyes. Craig knew he would have to say something eventually, but he was struggling to think of what the right way to apologize was.

“S-so…” Tweek said, cutting off Craig’s silent apology rehearsal. “I looked it up and applications to Columbia aren’t that much.”

“What?” Craig asked, confused. Tweek seemed to have started in the middle of a conversation they had never begun.

Tweek flinched at Craig’s response, and set down the dish in his hand.

“Wuh-well I j-just thought…I mean…” Tweek took a deep breath. “I can send in an application and we can go from there. I mean, we don’t even know if I can get in, so maybe we don’t even need to cross the bridge of _if_ I’m going until we get there, but at least if I _apply_ we can-”

Craig cut his manic rambling off with a kiss. Tweek seemed surprised at first, but eventually brought his soapy hands to Craig’s waist, and kissed him back. Craig pulled back from the kiss and looked at Tweek’s heavily lidded eyes. He looked relieved and far calmer than he had while talking about college.

“I don’t think you should,” Craig said quietly.

Tweek’s face snapped back to attention and his eyes widened.

“Y-you don’t? B-but in the car…what about the p-plan?”

Craig shrugged and gently brushed the blond’s bangs out of his eyes. “We’ll just make a new plan, I guess. But I don’t want you to go to school just for me.”

“B-but…but _you_ played football for _me_ ,” Tweek protested.

“This is different,” Craig said firmly.

Tweek stared up at Craig, his eyes darting back and forth over Craig’s face, as if searching for tells that this was some kind of test. He took a step back and leaned his back against the counter, placing his hands on either side of him for support.

“It’s not that I _never_ want to go,” he said quietly. “I just…I’m not sure _right now_. Moving to a different city – a different _state_ – and just starting another school right away. It just all feels like a lot of pressure.”

Craig took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

“And…are you sure you want to-”

“I want to move to New York, Craig,” Tweek said, whipping his head around to look at him. “I’m sure about that. I want to be in the same city as you and the same city as Broadway.”

“And the same city as Billy Joel,” Craig offered with a small smile.

Tweek smiled. “Yeah. And the same city as Billy Joel.” Tweek turned back around to face Craig. “I’m sure about that. I’m sure about New York. I’m just not sure what I’m gonna do there yet. Maybe I want to work for a bit first, or maybe I want to join an improv group…”

Tweek went to reach for his hair, but Craig caught his hand.

He stared deeply into Tweek’s eyes, trying to relay all the emotions he had rolling around in his head and chest.

“I want you to be happy.”

Tweek reached his hand up and put it on Craig’s cheek. Craig felt soapy water drip down his chin. “I know,” Tweek said softly.

“Alright,” Craig said solemnly, after a few seconds of the most comfortable silence Craig had felt all day. “That’s the new plan then: we’ll make a new plan. And Tweek will be happy”

Tweek giggled and Craig turned his face to kiss Tweek’s soapy palm. He smiled against it, suddenly reminded of something.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” Tweek giggled picking back up the discarded plate with his other hand.

“I really love your hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Please comment, they make my day (unless they're telling me I'm not understanding the gravitas of the pandemic). 
> 
> Love to you all. Stay safe <3

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a huge shout out to Joyni and DaftyPhun who have not only supported me through writing this, but really helped shape the story. I wish everyone could have friends like them. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading. I really appreciate it. Please be aware that a review definitely gives me an energy boost. 
> 
> Love to you all, stay safe during this pandemic. As for the BLM protests, you have my complete support. Please take care of yourselves.


End file.
